


only one i want (when i fall asleep)

by Ran



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Like Adults, M/M, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, We all know it, and in between have some mind blowing sex okay, last few eps of buddie content, listen these guys are already devoted to each other okay, they're gonna get together then have to learn to make it work, this is gonna be the opposite of a slow burn, this is just gonna show some in between moments from the
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22594672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ran/pseuds/Ran
Summary: Eddie has issues with needing people.Needing anything, if he’s being honest. Eddie knows the vulnerability it takes to allow something—someone—to become a necessity in his life again is too singed in his chest, burned into nothing but a smoldering mass between his heart and his lungs after two rib-crushing heartbreaks. The only person Eddie can have room for in the future he strives toward is Christopher—he’s the only person who can fit in the gaping cavity Eddie feels is left of his heart.Which is exactly why he’s smack in the middle of a rock and hard place when the rock is the last person to break Eddie’s heart and the hard place—his deliriously tired, hysterical child crying out for his Buck, wracked with another nightmare about the terror-filled night of Buck’s surprise party.These two learn the hard way that sometimes something that breaks grows back stronger than ever.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 70
Kudos: 347





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway I binged 9-1-1 in like three days and can officially say it's my favorite show of all time. Buddie is taking over my life. 
> 
> I had a rough day and I've been toying with a story for them so I told myself I could go ahead and post. This is gonna be (hopefully) a short series building on all our already canon-worthly content out there. I need something easy to work on while I knock out some creative kinks catching me up in my bonded series. 
> 
> song title from brockhampton's _sugar_
> 
> I made up this playlist to listen to while writing, so if you want some Buddie inspo here's a [link.](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/27yiUpSGUCWHHdKwTxEcCf)

* * *

Eddie has issues with needing people.

Needing anything, if he’s being honest; he doesn’t like that he _needs_ an outlet for his anger, doesn’t like that he _needs_ to see a therapist—sometimes he thinks he doesn’t even like needing to save people, something so deep and integral to the marrow of who he is calling him to a job that threatens his life with his son every time Eddie starts a shift. Even though he knows he could never actually regret the decisions that have led him to finding a home at the 118, that _need_ still runs so deep that his entire life is molded after its insistent desire. It flips a fundamental switch in his bones that jerks against anything that resembles taking away his control.

Eddie doesn’t like needing something and needing _someone_ for entirely different reasons, though. On his good days, he thinks it’s probably reasonable enough that he has issues with anything infringing on his control over his life. _Control_ is the only thing that has helped him provide a stable and loving home for Christopher, and jeopardizing that is never an option. But needing someone is like offering himself on an altar—with bruised knees, he gives every piece of himself in the hopes of even one whispered invocation that could make him whole, but instead Eddie has found there’s too many corrupted deities in the world that prefer bloodied penance over absolution.

Eddie knows the vulnerability it takes to allow something—some _one_ —to become a necessity in his life again is too singed in his chest, burned into nothing but a smoldering mass between his heart and his lungs after two rib-crushing heartbreaks. The only person Eddie can have room for in the future he strives toward is Christopher—he’s the only person who can fit in the gaping cavity Eddie feels is left of his heart.

Which is exactly why he’s smack in the middle of a rock and hard place when the rock is the last person to break Eddie’s heart and the hard place—his deliriously tired, hysterical child crying out for his Buck, wracked with another nightmare about the terror-filled night of Buck’s surprise party. Eddie had tried to shield Christopher from the worst of it, pulling Abuela over to cover Christopher’s eyes while his own panicked stare was focused on Buck’s convulsing body with a chaotic precision. Still, Christopher had been watching Buck when he coughed up so much blood and dropped with a bone-chilling _thud_ and his son’s screams that night were no less heartbreaking than they are now, pulling Eddie from sleep for the third night this week.

“Daddy!” Christopher cries, panic laced with tears as he struggles against the comforter while Eddie rushes over to the bed. “Dad, you have to save him!” Full body sobs have Christopher rocking in Eddie’s arms.

“Buck’s okay, _mi hijo_ , remember? We went to the hospital with him, he’s fine—”

“He’s _not_ , Daddy, he’s _hurt_!” Christopher’s voice breaks as he goes hoarse with a cough, pressing his face into Eddie’s neck with a wet sob. Eddie’s heart splits in two, overwhelmed by the feeling that he’s caused this relapse. Christopher had been doing so well even after the tsunami because Buck was around _so much_ , then. But with the lawsuit and ensuing silence, Eddie quickly became helpless to easing his son’s anxiety when the cure had been obligated by his lawyer not to speak to them.

Eddie meant it when he told Buck he forgives him; the only thing that hurts worse than the fact Buck willingly caused them to be apart for the last few months is the thought that it could stretch into forever if Eddie didn’t make sure Buck knew he’s still _wanted_ in their lives. Eddie just can’t let himself go further than that.

Ever since the night Eddie watched as Buck’s face lit up with astonished awe as Christopher was found—safe, _alive_ , and had been searching for _his Buck_ through that tsunami-wrecked hellscape—Eddie could no longer convince himself the swooping warmth in his chest when he sees his best friend is strictly platonic. And with the way Buck had stared back? Eddie isn’t a stupid man—he knows what adoration, _love_ looks like. He just had to decide if that’s something he actually wanted and could feasibly achieve; he wasn’t the only one he had to consider. It had been a revelation, that’s for damn sure, but even though it was like staring over a cliffside at even the thought of taking the next step in this new development, Eddie felt like it was the most natural progression for him and Buck—felt like he could take that step off the ledge and into a freefall, because Buck always has his back.

Until he didn’t.

It took a lot of sleepless nights and even more misplaced aggression to realize how he was channeling so much pent up anger from everything that happened with Shannon—things that would never see resolution, would never land the correct mark no matter where Eddie tried to toss the shrapnel of those complicated feelings. And Buck definitely wasn’t the right target.

So yes, he meant it when he told Buck he forgives him for the lawsuit. Eddie even means it every day when he accepts Buck’s attempts to get back to a normalcy between them—the way he’s already back in Eddie’s space, all the time, with brushed shoulders and soft grins; how he knows an invitation isn’t needed to drop by with a cool new craft activity for him and Christopher to work on while Eddie cooks dinner; how Buck just inserts himself back into their lives like nothing ever happened.

But it did happen, and Eddie is terrified it could happen again.

It isn’t until Eddie realizes that for Christopher, it happens again and again every time a night terror seized him and convinces him Buck has disappeared from their lives again. It’s hard to convince him otherwise when they’d only tentatively gotten back into their regular groove and now that Eddie thinks about it, Christopher had been _loads_ more clingy with Buck every time they’ve seen him since their little… Break. Or whatever.

If Eddie is still reeling with the aftershocks of Shannon’s death— _divorce,_ his mind always helpfully reminds him, _failure_ —right after getting her back into their lives, he’s sure Christopher’s trust that the same thing wouldn’t happen again right after they get Buck back is just as broken as Eddie’s.

So, yeah. Even though his heart constricts in his chest at the thought of reaching out to Buck with such a fragile request—opening up the door to more, knowing Buck will say of _course man, anything for Christopher_ and it’ll ring with an honesty that will trip Eddie into falling again—he also knows he can’t withhold something so easily attainable from Christopher.

“Okay, Chris, we can call Buck, alright?” Eddie runs his hand down his son’s back, trying to soothe the sobs that turn to hiccoughs at the suggestion. “Does that sound like a plan, bud?”

Christopher nods, the movement slick against Eddie’s tearstained neck and Eddie lets out a relieved sigh that the rivers seem to be diverted for now. “I can talk to Buck?”

“Yeah, Chris, you can talk to Buck. Let me go get my phone—you gonna be okay, bud?” Christopher is already squirming to get out of Eddie’s lap, wiping his sleeves roughly across his face. Eddie makes sure he’s settled before standing on shaking knees and leaving Christopher’s door cracked as he leaves. His socked feet make no noise as he makes the numb trip back to his room—his phone is still plugged in on his nightstand and he doesn’t feel his fingers as he picks it up and dials Buck’s number.

The only things Eddie can hear are the dial tone and his heartbeat, silence, then—

“Eddie?” Buck’s voice is sleep rough and confused, but there’s an undercurrent of hopefulness that steals the footing of Eddie’s resolve to make sure both he and Buck know this call is solely about _Christopher’s_ well-being. It’s too easy to fall back on the soft feelings that seem to crumble in his chest every time Buck is involved.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Eddie whispers, closing his door to give himself a moment before Christopher realizes he’s gotten ahold of Buck.

After a second of registering that it is in fact Eddie calling at one in the morning, Buck’s voice tilts with worry. “Is everything okay? Did something happen to Chris?”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Eddie assures him quickly, something deep rumbling in him at how much Buck cares about Christopher—how his son is always at the forefront of his best friend’s mind; Eddie tries to push those cracks in his resolve back together. “It’s just—he’s having those nightmares again. He’s—I was just—”

“Of course, man, I can be there in twenty, just—”

“No! No, you don’t have to come over. Maybe just talk to him for a few minutes? Or until he falls back to sleep, if that’s okay.” Eddie winces, hoping Buck didn’t catch his desperation. He’s not sure how well he could handle having Buck stay the night, like everything was like it was before—he’s already stumbling over the cracks between them.

There’s a pause pregnant with static as Buck takes in a breath over the line. “Do you really not want me to come over?”

Eddie worries his bottom lip with his teeth, wanting to bang his head on the doorframe but he can’t alarm Christopher. He settles with pressing his eyes against his forearm, leaning against the wall and steeling himself to be honest enough to make Buck believe him. “It’s not that I don’t _want_ you to come over, Buck, it’s just late—”

“Then I’ll be there in twenty, okay?” There’s an insistence in his voice, a silent pleading that has Eddie lose his breath. It’s not fair how this man could so thoroughly trample Eddie’s heart by _willingly_ separating himself from the little makeshift family the three of them had become and still breathe life back into Eddie with the steady support he’s always so happily giving away.

“Okay,” Eddie tells him finally, the suspended silence between them too heavy against his resolve. “Use your key, I’m going to try to get Chris to get settled for bed again.”

“Alright,” Buck says and good God, Eddie can _hear_ the smile behind each letter. “Yeah, tell him I’m on my way already. See you soon.”

Eddie mutters a soft goodbye before sighing and leaning harder into his arm, already emotionally strung out. He should have known better than to think Buck wouldn’t immediately hop in that stupid Jeep of his and make his way over here like the white knight he is as soon as Eddie mentioned Christopher’s nightmares coming back. The good news, at least, is Christopher should definitely be able to sleep through the night with Buck here.

He tells himself it’s worth the bruise this is going to leave on his already too-tender heart.

Christopher is hugging his pillow tight to his chest when Eddie comes back to find him. When Christopher sees the phone hanging from Eddie’s hand, his chest starts to rise and fall with renewed panic.

“Did Buck not answer the phone?” Tears already building behind his glasses, Christopher struggles to sit up with an urgency that usually can’t be found in his movements. Eddie realizes what he must be thinking and immediately rushes to his side, shushing his fears.

“No, bud, nothing like that—Buck just wanted to come see you himself, alright?”

Christopher coughs, wiping his nose and eyes with a swipe of his sleeve. Eddie’s going to have to change both their shirts before they get settled back into bed, he thinks. “Buck’s coming over?”

“Yeah, he’s coming over just for you,” Eddie sighs, reaching a hand out and pulling Christopher into a hug. His son collapses into his side, patting his chest.

“Let’s go get in bed, then, Daddy,” Christopher tells him, using the hand on Eddie’s chest to push himself up and toward the door.

“We’re already in bed, _mi hijo,_ where do you think you’re going?” Eddie starts after him, grabbing the door as Christopher swings it open.

“Buck won’t fit in my bed, Dad, duh,” Christopher laughs, wiping his face again as a smile starts to overpower the lingering panic. Eddie’s mind screeches to a halt.

“Well, Chris, no—but he will fit in the guest bed, you know?” This, Eddie thinks, is a new low for him—arguing with an eight year old as to why they both can’t sleep with their best friend.

“Buck’s not a _guest_ , Daddy,” Christopher shakes his head on a laugh that makes it sound like he thought Eddie was the funniest person alive; even though it does nothing but further panic Eddie into the possibility he’s going to be kicking that door open between him and Buck tonight, he has to admit the sound of laughter so soon after being woken up by such terrible screams is a miracle.

Eddie just hopes he can produce another one to keep him from doing something stupid tonight—like falling in love with his best friend.

Again.

Shit.

* * *

Eddie loses the battle and after at least compromising with Christopher to change into a new pajama shirt before crawling into Eddie’s bed, he’s settling in beside his son with resignation sloped in the curl of his shoulders. He feels like he’s never going to escape Buck—he’s an inevitability, it seems, and Eddie is terrified of what’s going to happen once this predestination between them finally passes.

 _Come to my room when you get here,_ Eddie at least has half a mind to text Buck around the time he should be arriving. He doesn’t even have time to worry about the implications of a text like that—this late at night, under different circumstances—before he can hear the front door opening. There’s the quiet creak as the screen door is carefully closed, and Eddie’s heart jumps through his chest. There’s only a few minutes before the doorframe to his bedroom is being filled with Buck—all shoulders and concern, like always—shrugging out of his jacket and carefully placing it on the desk chair. He meets Eddie’s eyes for only a moment before his gaze focuses in on Christopher, passed out against Eddie’s chest.

“He just fell asleep maybe ten minutes ago,” Eddie whispers, one hand stroking from the crown of Christopher’s head down his back. Eddie is afraid to look up from Christopher’s soft curls to see whatever even softer expression Buck has melting his face.

“Do you want me to go?” Buck asks, instead, and Eddie immediately whips his head up with a crease deepening across his forehead as he takes in the hesitancy in Buck’s posture.

Even though every instinct in Eddie’s body had pushed against letting Buck this close again, the thought of turning him away sickens him. Only Buck would drive in the middle of the night and offer to turn around and leave when he thinks he’s somehow not _needed_ here, now, with them. Eddie can’t let him think they could live without Buck beside them, somehow. Even if fear of the unknown between them eats Eddie alive, he does _know_ Buck would do anything for Christopher and he can’t let Buck think he isn’t important.

“Just get in here, Buckley.” Eddie steadies Christopher’s sleeping form with one arm as he pulls the comforter back with the other—his voice is rough, too raw with the tension between them, but he can’t smooth it out when extending such an invitation to Buck. Buck’s face does that complicated thing it always does when Eddie shows him just a little too much of his heart—but his eyes stay steadily latched onto Eddie, so genuine and happy that Eddie has to avert his gaze or risk losing it right here, right now.

The mattress dips after a few moments of shuffling as Buck kicks off his boots by the bed. Eddie takes a deep breath—then there’s familiar warmth curling around them both, Buck’s forehead nearly pressing against Eddie's as he tosses an arm around Christopher. His hand lands somewhere between Eddie’s hip and thigh and the weight of it burns bright throughout Eddie’s entire body.

“Buck?” Christopher mumbles out as he registers the press of someone against his back. Buck’s fingers find their way to curl around the waistband of Eddie’s sweatpants and it’s everything Eddie’s wanted and he wants to push it away. He can’t bring himself to even twitch toward doing so when Buck immediately curls closer to Christopher and hums his affirmation.

“Yeah, buddy, it’s me. Heard you were worried about me, so here I am.” Buck’s voice is so unbearably gentle that Eddie can do nothing but hold his son closer to his chest and take a deep breath to steady himself.

“You’re okay?” Christopher asks through a yawn, one hand coming up to palm at Buck’s arm. Buck tightens his grip on Eddie’s hip, pulling them both closer to his chest. Eddie’s forehead is pressed snugly against the ball of Buck’s shoulder, and he can smell the overwhelming cedar wood scent Eddie—infuriatingly enough—knows comes from Buck’s aftershave.

Eddie feels Buck nod against the top of his head. “I’m with you and your dad, bud, of _course_ I’m okay.” The thing that gets Eddie is the honesty that’s so plainly splayed between the words, open and gracious—how is he supposed to stand a chance keeping up his guard with a man who so eagerly bares himself for whatever penance can keep him at the foot of this shrine between them?

“Are you gonna stay?”

The question hangs between them, Buck’s chest catching on a breath and Eddie watches as his pulse twitches where Eddie’s face is pressed close; he feels the roll of Buck’s throat against the bridge of his nose as Buck takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, _mi hijo_. Buck’s gonna stay with us,” Eddie whispers roughly, stretching out one leg to tangle with Buck’s—it’s the last parts of them that could be touching and weren’t, and Eddie had to get him as close as possible. Eddie can’t let Buck think he’s anything less of home when surrounded by the Diaz family.

Christopher mumbles out something that sounds pretty close to _I’m glad_ before he’s out—exhaustion had already been clawing at them both after so many interrupted nights this week, and Eddie is surprised either of them have held off this long. Buck’s hand drifts from Eddie’s hip up to his shoulder, his warm fingers kneading into the nape of his neck. Buck’s thumb brushes against the edge of Eddie’s jaw and he has to suck in a breath to restart himself at the awe of it all.

Eddie thinks he feels Buck’s lips press against his hair when the whisper of _thank you_ surrounds him; Eddie lets the words burrow into that empty space next to his heart—too clefted and craggy for most to reach—knowing Buck has never had an issue following wherever Eddie’s asked him to go. It’s too easy to let all those unfinished feelings light up against each of Eddie’s ribs like tripped matches, burning bright and just as hot as the day he realized the flames had been lit.

Eddie Diaz might have trouble with needing people, but Eddie Diaz is a man who can admit when he’s wrong. He can concede to the universe that maybe a mistake can start with good intentions and end with forgiveness and then—they can move on, learning from a hurt that doesn’t have to be held onto so it can sharpen into a projectile for later use, and they can continue growing forward.

Now Eddie just has to figure out how to convince his best friend he belongs right here, just like this—keeping his _family_ close—for as long as Eddie can keep him.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie looks down at Buck, his expression too open and wanting that Buck wants to whine and give Eddie whatever he needs to fill it back up. It’s dizzyingly easy to allow himself to get picked up by Eddie’s orbit, pulled in and wrapped up with so many _what if_ s and _please_ s and _we can’t_ s that Buck’s been tossing around in his chest for the last year. Buck can only imagine what kind of expression is on his own face if Eddie’s is melting the way it is, all the edges smoothing into something comfortable and warm—Buck sometimes feels like he’s staring at the sun when he looks at Eddie, even though he pulls him in like the moon with her waves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this fic is def basically just a stress reliever for me, and it's really refreshing to just have something to write bc it makes me happy and posting it without too much fuss (not that i don't edit, just... not obsessively)
> 
> which is why i already have a second chapter ready, since it's my stress relief and i have a lot of stress to relieve lmao 
> 
> i hope you enjoy, i'd love to hear what you think. no promises the next chapter will be as quick, but i can say ive already started it since the fic earns its rating for that chapter lol. 
> 
> also this sort of replaces the iconic scene between them in 3x09 (think it is) but don't worry, i will make up for it.

* * *

  
Okay, so, Buck has two problems.

The first problem started with the first woman he ever really loved and ended with how she also became the last, because shortly after Buck made a pretty big realization about himself as he fell in love with his infuriatingly amazing partner and best friend. But see, the issue with this problem is that it ended up spawning a lot of little baby problems—like how Buck also realized the moment he watched as Christopher was found, alive and desperately holding onto the only anchor both he and Buck had in this world, that he would do absolutely anything to ensure he could always stay by their sides—but Buck’s got it all under control, mostly.

At least he did, until the clean up from one of those little baby problems—and yeah, he realizes now that _maybe_ his way of keeping them together didn’t exactly line up with Eddie’s way, but overall he thinks they both now understand they had the same goal in the end, okay, and that’s what matters—kinda sorta hatched into a new breed of problem.

Which brings Buck to problem _numero dos_ : waking up tangled in a mess of limbs between himself and two very asleep Diaz boys. Don’t get him wrong—either of these things would probably be fine separated out from each other. Buck has spent the night on the couch—or, on the rare night he doesn’t just pass out while talking to Eddie over a late night beer, the guest bed—many times, so he knows what waking up to Eddie and Christopher is like. And, alternatively, Buck has also chilled on the couch for movie night—knotted up with knees and elbows under a blanket between two Diaz boys as _Moana_ plays for the second time in a row. Buck knows it somewhere embedded in the marrow of his bones, the way it feels to have his and Eddie’s feet propped together as they curl around Christopher, who’s sleepily patting both their chests off-beat with one of the songs in what Buck surprisingly knows is the climax of the movie—solely through sheer osmosis, with it being the soundtrack to most of his visits since Chris’ new obsession with surfing kicked in.

Buck _knows_ what it’s like to feel like he’s being woven into something that’s so much bigger than himself as he listens to Eddie’s off-key mumbling along to appease Christopher’s sleepy demand for karaoke.

So yeah. Separately, not a problem at all.

(Buck thinks, absently, he needs to get better at lying if he wants a chance to get out of this with his relationship in tact.)

But waking up for the first time after coming off his last 24 hour shift without the early rays of dawn signaling him it’s socially acceptable to go ahead and get up—since it’s not like Buck can sleep well knowing how off balance his life still feels every day—and instead he only has to float to consciousness, enveloped in warmth and the golden light of midmorning. There’s the steady rise and fall of a small body curled into Buck’s left side, limbs haphazardly tossed everywhere within Buck’s personal space as Christopher snores lightly where his head is tucked into Buck’s forearm—which is curled back around the boy.

Buck thinks his arm lost feeling sometime in the night and he’s grateful for it, because it doesn’t look like it’s been in a comfortable position for a while. He can easily ignore it though from where a heavier weight is pressed into his right side; solid and so satisfyingly warm that Buck can’t help but pull it closer with a deep inhale.

Except Buck _knows_ that scent the exact same way he knows mumbled lyrics and soft laughter over clinked bottles. And as much as people like to give him shit, Buck knows he’s not stupid. He can deduce that all of _this_ means the lips pressing sleepy puffs of air against Buck’s neck do indeed belong to his best friend.

Shit.

Buck’s heart shudders against his ribs as his chest constricts, like his body can sacrifice breathing if it meant bringing Eddie a little closer.

Buck’s body is goddamn stupid, if you ask him.

He’s been in an argument with what Buck knows he needs and what his body wants for the last two years; he wasn’t surprised when he had to start fighting it against Eddie, okay. It was when he also had to start fighting his heart, too, that Buck had started crumbling at the foundation he tried laying between him and his boys, trying to stabilize the only home he’d ever built for himself before.

After the tsunami—after thinking he’d lost Christopher and the ruins of that home washed along his ankles like the tide that tore him open and left him to bleed through every shake of a head as Buck mumbled out Christopher’s description again and again, Buck knew he couldn’t lose this ever again. He couldn’t risk it—so he did the only thing he could think of to get him back where he belonged; with his family, by their sides and Eddie’s—making sure he made it back to their little home at the end of every shift. But doing so ruptured the ground between them—so soft with something new budding right there, under the surface—and Buck thought he had pushed them away forever.

Except Eddie forgave him, and everything was normal— _except_ it wasn’t. Eddie let Buck come as close as he dared, but he never pushed back—he reacted, he wasn’t instigating. It was like he stopped flowing in tune with Buck and instead let Buck go in blind with the next step, Eddie just following along quietly.

And Buck had a _plan_ , okay. Eddie and Chris were supposed to be coming over for pizza and video games tonight—they’d had it planned for a week, and Buck had been buzzing with anticipation not only because he’d missed them like crazy, but also because he was finally going to corner Eddie and _properly_ apologize. Then they’d be able to _really_ get back to normal, and Buck could stop tiptoeing around the best thing to ever happen to him.

Buck had even gone to bed early—not only because it was his first 24 hours off a 24 hour long shift and he was pretty exhausted, but also so he could be well rested and ready to show the Diaz boys a great guys’ night the next day. But then—then he’d gotten a call from Eddie, too late for it to be casual, and well.

Well, Buck guesses, this is how today is gonna go now.

Buck will just have to steer them into something closer to normal, then he can apologize, and everything will work out fine. The Plan can still happen, even if it’s moved up a few hours. Really, Buck tells himself, it’ll probably even work out better this way.

But then Eddie sighs and Buck can feel the air brush across his chest and he wants to collapse into himself with the shiver that he fights down. Eddie’s voice is as rough and frayed as Buck’s nerves feel when he lets out a quiet, “Mornin’, Sleeping Beauty.”

And just like that, the static in his veins starts to fizzle down to a simmer at the light familiarity and safety between them; it feels like being caught before Buck even knew to fall, and he has become dependent on it in a way he’s afraid to dissect too much. “Don’t think it counts when I was awake before you,” Buck grumbles, trying to stretch his shoulders on a yawn without jostling either of them.

“Been up for about an hour, actually,” Eddie tells him casually, the arm tossed over Buck’s stomach flexing in an amazingly distracting way as Eddie’s thumb rubs back and forth across Christopher’s back, where it’s curled up to Buck’s side. Buck’s so lost in the domesticity of it all that it takes a few too many heartbeats for him to catch up to the implications of that.

“And you were just.... Cuddling me?” For an _hour_?

Eddie hums. “Didn’t want to wake you or Christopher up.” Which makes… Sense, yeah, okay. “Plus, can’t say I hate having you both so close to me.” Which… Makes too much sense and it burns through Buck’s entire body on a flush that he hopes isn’t visible where Eddie huffs out a laugh against his neck, pushing himself up onto one elbow.

Eddie looks down at Buck, his expression too open and wanting that Buck wants to whine and give Eddie whatever he needs to fill it back up. It’s dizzyingly easy to allow himself to get picked up by Eddie’s orbit, pulled in and wrapped up with so many _what if_ s and _please_ s and _we can’t_ s that Buck’s been tossing around in his chest for the last year. Buck can only imagine what kind of expression is on his own face if Eddie’s is melting the way it is, all the edges smoothing into something comfortable and warm—Buck sometimes feels like he’s staring at the sun when he looks at Eddie, even though he pulls him in like the moon with her waves.

“Buck,” Eddie starts, and Buck swallows. He can’t even blink, his eyes too fixed in the deep whiskey color that the morning’s light is turning Eddie’s eyes. “We should talk, I think.”

His expression must have given away too much, this time. Buck blinks rapidly, trying to pull himself out of his stupor and focus on Eddie’s words. Even though it’s ultimately what he does want—to talk, to clear up those last few smudges between them so they can start clean again—Buck had planned to get it on _his_ terms. He doesn’t know what Eddie could have to talk about, and it’s doing something elaborate with his heartbeat.

“Yeah, you know, man—” Buck sucks in a breath, slowly starting to untangle his arm from Christopher before continuing in a whisper, “Why don’t I go pick us all up some breakfast from that place we liked a couple weeks ago first?” Buck winces, his mind skidding to a stop at the first feasible thing that could get him out of the house for long enough to regain control of The Plan.

“What?” Eddie says after a suspended pause, and Buck wants to smooth away the crease forming between his brows. “No, Buck, that’s not—we have eggs and shit here, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head, but Buck just nods.

“Chris had a hard night, yeah? And he loved those bagels, dude.” Buck finally frees himself and twists, meeting Eddie’s eyes again. There’s more confusion there and hesitant resignation and, shit—this is not how today is supposed to go, okay? “Let me treat him, please?” Buck nearly pleads, grasping for the last fraying edges of control he has.

Eddie searches his gaze for a few very loud heartbeats before he’s finally nodding, flopping back into his pillow. “Fine, man. Whatever you want.”

Buck wants to whine; he just needs Eddie to understand this is all going to be _okay_ , he just needs like—ten minutes, tops, to breathe and gather himself. Then Buck will be able to march back in here and fix everything.

Except all he gets out is, “I’ll be right back, promise.”

And then he’s out the door and in his Jeep before his brain catches up with his numb legs. It isn’t until he’s made the five minute drive and staring at the bakery’s sign that Buck realizes he still has no idea what the hell he’s going to do when he gets back.

So, like a responsible adult, Buck collapses against the side of the bakery and gets out his phone.

“Sweet mother of—oh, hell.” Hen’s sigh is rough and rumbling just as much as her voice. “Buck. What part of you has been sawed off? Because I know, without a doubt, that you—under full knowledge that my 48 off lands with Denny’s spring break—would not call at 7 in the damn morning on my day to _sleep_ _in_ without a limb hanging in the balance.”

Buck is pretty sure Hen didn’t even breathe throughout that entire speil which would be impressive if he wasn’t so impatient to get someone who knows how to have a functional relationship for any significant amount of time in on this whole Situation. He needs someone emotionally competent in charge of navigating this to the best possible outcome for him, okay?

“I slept over at Eddie’s,” Buck tells her by way of explanation, skipping over even trying to refute her rant.

The slow exhale of breath over the line has Buck knocking his head on the brick behind him, looking up to the sky and considering religion for the first time in a decade. “For what? The fiftieth time now? _Boy_ , I know you didn’t call me to—”

“No, Hen, I—” Buck sputters out, trying to get her to understand, “I slept over at Eddie’s. In Eddie’s bed. With Eddie _in_ it.”

“Oh,” Hen pauses, then, “Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Buck rolls his eyes, rocking his head back and forth against the brick in hopes maybe it’ll rub away all the anxiety bundled under his skin, too. “—Well?”

“I mean,” Buck blows out all the air in his chest, letting the fall of his shoulders against the wall help ground him as he tries to steady his heartbeat. “Chris was there too. Nothing like, _happened_. But Hen he—he was totally _cuddling_ me this morning, okay? And he woke up before me!”

There’s a crackling silence over the line that sounds suspiciously like _Lord help me Jesus_ before Hen’s asking, “And what’s the problem with this, Buck? What did you do after that?”

“Well,” Buck starts, wincing already at what he’s sure is gonna be an epic scolding, “you see, I _am_ on the phone with _you_ right now at,” Buck pulls his phone from his ear, squints at the screen for the time, “7:18 in the morning and you are a very intelligent person, Hen—it’s actually something I admire greatly—”

“Evan Buckley,” Hen’s voice is more like a thundercloud bursting with life than actual words and Buck rubs the back of his neck, fearing for the rain. “You tell me right now that you did not run from that man’s house.”

Buck rubs one hand down his face, squinting back up at the sky—still, no new deities have decided to take mercy on him and magically fix things from him, so instead he says, “Technically I told him I was getting bagels.”

“And are you?” Hen asks, sighing, “Are you getting those bagels, Buck?”

Buck pushes off the wall, finally going into the bakery. “Yes! I am 100% getting those bagels, okay, it wasn’t an _excuse_ , I just—Hen, I don’t know what I’m _doing_ here. I was supposed to apologize to him tonight, okay, not right _now_ —and plus, _plus_ —Hen, what am I supposed to do after I know he looks like _that_ in the morning, huh? It’s just not fai—”

“Buck! Breathe, boy, breathe,” Hen finally breaks through to him and Buck realizes the people in front of him in line have started stealing glances at him over their shoulders. Buck shoots a few nosy people a quick wave and tight smile, clutching his phone closer to his face.

“I’m breathing,” Buck tells her, letting out a breath a little louder than necessary to get her to chuckle over the line. “I’m just freaking out here, okay. I need your help.”

“You don’t say.” Hen sighs, and this time there’s more affection back in her tone. “Listen, kid. You don’t need my help, alright? You _need_ to talk to Eddie—like you were _already_ going to do, mind you—and apologize to him for whatever reason your beautiful brain still thinks it needs to. And then you two can figure out the best way to go on from last night.”

Buck registers all of her words as a reasonable set of instructions but he grumbles anyway, letting another customer in front of him so he could finish up with Hen before giving his order. “You say that like it’ll be easy.”

“I’m not saying it’ll be _easy_ —I’m saying it needs to happen if you ever want to get back to a place of trust between you two. And I know you want that—don’t bother interrupting me to say it, kid,” Hen chuckles while Buck snaps his jaw shut. “So start off by _trusting_ him that he wants the same thing you want: a future with the other in it. Okay?”

The person in front of him is about to pay and Buck realizes he really is out of time to put off the inevitable any longer. He has to face this conversation with Eddie, no matter the outcome. Hen is right, though—Eddie is his partner. Buck has trusted his life to that man more times than he can count, and Eddie has always strived to keep Buck at his side, healthy and whole. Buck has to have faith that their relationship can withstand one measly conversation.

* * *

Buck grumbles a begrudging thanks up to the sky when he realizes he had half a mind to grab his key on his way out almost an hour ago. He balances two coffees over a warm back as his hip checks the door closed. It’s only as the door is slamming shut that he winces, realizing he should still be quiet while—

“Started to think you weren’t comin’ back,” Eddie’s voice turns Buck from the door to the kitchen, where Eddie is leaning against the counter—his chest spread as he props himself up on his wrists, the soft fabric of Eddie’s shirt stretching obscenely from shoulder to shoulder.

“Nah, man,” Buck tells him, fingers digging into the paper bag as he grips it tight, “you should know I wouldn’t do that to you.” Buck aims for joking and he’s pretty sure it hits right off the rim, the syllables falling flat against the ground as Buck crosses the space between them. There’s a determination brewing behind Eddie’s eyes. Buck holds up the coffees. “They had that roast you really liked last time. Chris up yet?” Buck asks quickly, averting his eyes.

Eddie takes one of the steaming cups when Buck offers it to him, moving past him to the dining room table. Buck starts to decisively unpack their breakfast spread instead of watch as Eddie takes the seat across from him.

“He’s getting dressed. Wanted to do it himself,” Eddie tells him with quiet amusement.

“Did you hide those cowboy boots? Dude, he’s worn them for like—”

“All day, every day, for a month, yeah—of course I hid them. They’ve been airing out in the garage with some baking soda for the last two days.”

“He’ll find them eventually,” Buck chuckles, getting lost in the motion of spreading cream cheese across the bagel he’s preparing for Chris. Damn, that kid had a special effect on him—even the thought of him had him loosening up, everything seemingly brighter with him even adjacent to a moment. Buck puts the bagel on a plate and sets it to the side.

“I have no doubt.” And it’s—it’s the tenderness in Eddie’s voice that gets him, okay? Buck is a strong willed man, but he’s not too proud to admit his knees shake at the infinite gentleness Eddie always has for Christopher; Buck can rarely withstand sneaking a peak of that devotion up close, hoping to catch some of the residual rays of it and keep them for himself. And Eddie, Jesus, Eddie looks so goddamn soft sitting across the table from him that Buck has trouble sitting still.

It’s getting ridiculous at this point, Buck thinks, and he doesn’t even need to call Hen to know that.

“Listen, Eddie—”

“Buck, I—”

They both falter, staring at each other in surprise before grinning. Buck rubs the back of his neck, toying with his coffee cup. He glances back up at Eddie through scrunched eyes, his smile softening. “Can I go first, please?” Eddie nods, motioning him on with his coffee cup before taking a sip.

Buck takes a deep breath, Hen’s words echoing in his head like a To Do list; he just has to get out what he already planned on telling Eddie first and they’ll go from there. “Listen, Eddie,” Buck stops, winces, realizing he already started that way. Eddie’s eyes shine with mirth as he watches Buck over the cardboard rim of his cup. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, okay? I got too caught up in my own shit and I wasn’t there when you and Chris needed me—”

“Buck, we’re _over_ this—”

“ _I’m_ not, okay? I _should_ have been there,” Buck leans into his forearms, pressed against the table, the speech in his head he had planned for tonight getting too easily derailed as the morning light warms the lines of Eddie’s face. “Eddie, I don’t know how to make sure you _know_ —that I—”

Eddie uncrosses his legs and leans forward, clapping one palm down on Buck’s arm; the contact immediately alights Buck’s skin, feeling too much like a wildfire in his veins. “I know that you were doing what you thought you needed to do to stay with your family, Buck.” Eddie’s voice is soft but leaves no room for arguments. Buck swallows. “And I _know_ that you would do whatever it takes to keep Christopher happy—and _safe_.”

“I would, Eddie, I’ll never let anything happen to him again, I _swear_ —”

Eddie’s thumb swiping across Buck’s wrist short circuits his brain, stealing the promise right out of his mouth. “That wasn’t a challenge, _mi amado,”_ Eddie’s voice is cushioned with laughter, and Buck’s heart trips over the unfamiliar name; he’s pretty used to a few names from Eddie and even Abuela and Pepa upon occasion, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been called _that_ before.

With the way Eddie clears his throat and squeezes his arm once before pulling away—taking another sip of his coffee with averted eyes—Buck doesn’t think it’s one Eddie meant to use, either. “Oh,” is all Buck can manage to get out at the observation.

“And, yeah—I admit, I probably slipped a little too far without you around but that’s on me, okay?” Eddie tells him, finally meeting Buck’s eyes again. Buck’s about to cut in, an indignant whine already building because _no_ , Eddie isn’t gonna think he can shoulder the weight of his bad decisions by himself, but then— “Plus, I’m gonna need you now more than ever, Buck. Without fighting, I’m afraid—”

“Buck! You’re back!” Christopher yells from the hallway to the kitchen, the biggest smile splitting his face. Buck has to tear his gaze from Eddie’s—rubbed raw from how open Eddie had looked just then—forcing himself to turn and then _nothing_ is forced as he smiles at Christopher.

“Hey bud! I am! And guess what? I got you a strawberry bagel!” Buck makes mock _ohhh_ s and _ahhh_ s, causing Christopher to laugh wildly as he climbs into a chair between him and Eddie.

“That’s my favorite,” Christopher tells him matter-of-factly, and Buck fakes a gasp, catching Eddie’s eyes over the top of Christopher’s head as they fight back smiles.

“I had no idea. Guess we gotta add psychic to my list of superpowers, huh?”

Christopher nods, happily biting into the bagel Buck had placed there for him. Eddie watches Christopher for a minute, smiling through his coffee, before clearing his throat. “Hey, Chris—you know how we were gonna go to Buck’s apartment later today?”

“Mmhmm,” Christopher answers without looking up, licking some cream cheese off his fingers. Buck hands him a napkin absently, giving Eddie a curious look as he tries to figure out where he’s going with this.

“Well,” Eddie says conspiratorially, “do you think you could try to convince your Buck to just spend _all day_ with us instead? He’s already here, right?” Eddie mock-whispers to Christopher across the table and Buck blinks at them before his brain catches up with them.

“Yeah, Buck, you’re already here!” Christopher parrots, so thoroughly on board with the idea like it wasn’t just suggested to him.

Buck laughs, feeling his cheeks start to ache at the grin stretching his face. “Ah, c’mon, man, it’s not fair to send the big guns in on me.” Buck leans in and tickles Christopher at the end, earning a dairy-covered smack across the cheek as Christopher erupts into laughter, pushing him away.

“All’s fair in love and war,” Eddie quotes, amusement and warmth settled so deep in his eyes it takes Buck’s breath away. He didn’t know things could be _felt_ this much, you know? He thought he knew what it was like to love someone—and he did, he loved Abby, he knows it—but this is _different_. It’s so much deeper, imbedded in his marrow like it’s always been there and always will be. It’s—devotion, Buck realizes, knowing he’s devoted to keeping the smiles on both the faces in front of him.

Eddie’s watching him and his face must be read too easily, because quickly a flush starts to warm Eddie’s face. Buck’s fascinated with the way it makes Eddie _glow_. “There’s literally nowhere else I’d rather be,” Buck finally tells Christopher, the boy’s whoops of triumph lost on Buck as Eddie’s lips part—his eyes latch onto Buck at the admission, his mouth falling open on something near-silent and Spanish.

Things might not be working out exactly the way Buck planned today—but from the look in Eddie's eyes, things _are_ still moving forward. Buck isn’t sure where they’re going—but he does know he’s along for the ride, and is going to hold on for as long as Eddie lets him. There’s a promise in those eyes to finish this conversation, too, and Buck thinks that’s okay. He doesn’t know what he was so scared of, anyway— _losing them, again_ , his brain butts in but he ignores it—because he _does_ trust Eddie. There’s never been a question of that, even from that first day and Eddie earned Buck’s respect in the span of 24 hours.

So yeah, knowing they would pick up where they left off at some point today feels less like dodging invisible landmines and more like getting to carve the familiar groove between them even deeper. Buck feels the anticipation of learning _more_ —being invited further into Eddie’s life, and it’s exhilarating instead of terrifying.

“It’s settled, then,” Eddie whispers, and Buck’s heart pounds.

 _Not yet, it’s not_ , Buck thinks, but he can feel it coming; it brews in the space stretched across the table, bloated and just waiting for the right pinprick of opportunity to burst forth. As Christopher hurriedly inhales his bagel with a plea for them both to catch up to him so they can get their day started, Buck thinks he can feel the right pressure sharpening between him and Eddie. It feels like a promise—like a beginning.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck lets out a breath that sounds like a rough prayer, like it had been held in his chest for too long and the devotion was fighting to be heard. “I want this more than anything, Eddie,” he says and it’s raw and too tender to be out in the open and yet here Buck is—extending it to Eddie with abraded hands that don’t even shake under the weight of that kind of promise. 
> 
> “We’re on the same page then,” Eddie tells him, too roughly, all the soft parts of him busy with wrapping himself around Buck’s tender offering and aching to protect it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a lot harder to write than i thought it would be, maybe because it's so transitionary for their relationship?? idk, but i hope it doesn't disappoint
> 
> honestly this chapter is just me being ridiculously soft on these two being soft with each other, so. hopefully y'all enjoy lol. any mistakes are solely mine since it's unbeta'd, but I've just read this too many times now and need to just post it hah.

* * *

Christopher is a buffer between Eddie and Buck that Eddie never thought he would need with his best friend; not that the conversation had gone badly—Eddie is pretty sure whenever they’re able to pick it up again, the dust is going to settle back down into the cracks of what they’ve gathered of themselves. Eddie is just… Nervous, really, about what’s going to happen next between them. It isn’t exactly an anxious energy either—it teeters on a fine edge of excitement, because it seems this is one inevitability he’s hurtling towards and he’s determined to steer that trajectory in his little family’s best interests.

It just so happens Buck being with them is one of those best interests, so yeah—Eddie is going to do whatever it takes to keep Buck beside them.

It isn’t until Buck’s leaning against the doorframe leading to the hallway with a dopey smile on his face, watching as Christopher sets off determinedly for his bedroom—the intention of getting a backpack picked out and stocked with whatever he can imagine he’ll need for an outing to the park rooted in the determined clack of his crutches—that Eddie realizes how true that actually is.

Eddie knows things between them got stretched and chipped from the pressure of the lawsuit and Eddie’s… Unexpected reaction to losing the ability to talk to his best friend for a couple of months. Eddie is the first to admit that _perhaps_ he was too complacent from Buck’s guiding hand when he jumps into something stupid—an anchor that keeps Eddie within his limits amid whatever chaos is thrown their way.

Perhaps he got too used to the safety net that Buck’s presence weaved together for him, easing him out of tricky situations—promising Eddie that he would have someone at his back through to the end, and he didn’t have to worry about checking his own impulses because the other half of him would guide him back down to reality with a brushed shoulder or a hand on a bicep, too lingering to be a coincidence; those eyes, too, always those eyes tracking Eddie everywhere he went, always checking to see if he’s still around—Eddie thinks it’s no wonder there’s never a hesitation between Eddie’s impulses and Buck’s arrival to his side, with Buck’s _goddamn_ eyes on him so often.

It’s so frustratingly distracting, but Eddie isn’t a skilled enough liar to pretend the specter of a gaze—so finely tuned to his emotions, his wants and what he _needs_ at any given moment—isn’t comforting; the weight of that presence at his side has sunk so deep into Eddie’s subconscious, it seems braided in with each strand of his own DNA now.

Eddie knows Buck has ingrained himself into Christopher’s life just as fully, even without his son’s constant chatter about stories from hanging out with his Buck—it’s written so plainly on the adoring look on his best friend’s face as his stare follows Christopher long after he reached his bedroom.

Eddie’s heart swells and he tries to relieve the pressure with a cleared throat and a clap down on the back of Buck’s shoulder. “Hey,” he says softly, “do you just wanna borrow some clothes? I think the last set of clothes you left here are still in the dirty laundry.”

Buck doesn’t tense when Eddie’s fingers linger, a solid connection between them. Not that Eddie really thought he would—he’s _pretty sure_ he’s not reading this whole situation wrong between them, this swelling that they both know needs to burst before it can get better.

“Yeah,” Buck says roughly, clearing his throat, “that would be good, thanks.” There’s something lingering about his stare as Buck gives Eddie a grateful smile, pushing off the doorframe and following Eddie to his room. Buck is quiet as he takes a seat at the foot of the bed, watching as Eddie pulls open a drawer and starts to pull out shirts that look vaguely Buck-sized. He sets a couple of the best options on top of the drawers before clearing his throat and turning to Buck.

“I don’t think my jeans will fit but you’re welcome to some joggers if you want them,” Eddie offers, gesturing to the second drawer. Buck is watching him so openly, eyes wide and earnest as he clasps his hands together as they hang between his knees.

“Thank you,” Buck tells him, and it sounds heavier than gratitude over a borrowed shirt. Eddie swallows.

“Any time,” Eddie breathes out and it sounds way too close to _anything_ —brushing against the truth in his chest that is tired of being locked away and ignored.

Before Eddie can even begin to toy with that lock, Buck is pushing up from his knees with averted eyes and crossing to stand next to him, pulling open the drawer to find a pair of pants. Eddie watches his profile for a moment before turning his gaze to the ground. Eddie crosses his arms and waits with downcast eyes as Buck gets changed. Eddie knows he should probably let Buck have the room to change, but the thought of letting him out of his sight right now doesn’t settle well in Eddie’s chest.

He knows this thing they have between them is fragile right now; it’s trying to find new footing to take root, and Eddie needs to make sure Buck knows he’s on safe ground.

Eddie sees Buck pull up the waist of his nice and soft black joggers—a little too tight around Buck’s calves as the cuffs taper off—so he chances a peek to see if Buck’s done yet.

Through heavy lashes, Eddie sees so much bared skin stretching from where Eddie’s sweats sit so low on Buck’s hips all the way up to those ridiculous shoulders of his as Buck flips through the few shirts Eddie set aside for him. To say Eddie never expected the sight of curving muscle and hard planes under smooth skin to light his body on fire the way it is right now is an understatement.

Eddie had thought he was pretty secure in his sexuality by his early thirties, that’s for sure. But this attraction to Buck—to the way his smile slips from his mouth so easily, the way Buck’s hands are always reaching toward him with such surety—feels so natural to him, it’s too easy not to question it. But even Eddie knows something like this should be taken out and examined before being put out on display for public consumption.

Eddie has thought long and hard about whether or not these feelings are real or if it’s just by product of the domesticity that has been cultivated from their closeness; looking back, he realized one of the reasons he never had been much for one-night stands even before Shannon was he needed that emotional connection to feel real, deep attraction. Shannon had been one of the first people to really excavate deep enough to uncover that kind of connection with him, and after that he hadn’t even considered anyone else for himself.

And Eddie realizes that his perception of Buck changed ever since he had been there for Eddie shortly after he joined the 118—lost in the dredges of healthcare bureaucracy bullshit, struggling to keep his and Christopher’s heads above the water—and Buck jumped into their deep end without second thought, reaching out to them and pulling them ashore with quiet reassurances he’d _be there_ for them. The lens of possibility had been focusing on Buck ever since that moment, slowly growing under Eddie’s skin and saturating him in the potential between them.

That potential is bursting to life in Eddie’s veins, burning for him to reach out and _touch_. Eddie takes an aborted step forward, something close to words on his tongue before every thought dies as Buck turns to him with a shirt clutched in his hand. Eddie’s eyes are stuck on unfamiliar ink dashed across Buck’s ribcage, the black lines still alive with a vibrancy that speaks to its freshness.

Eddie realizes he really has been avoiding Buck if he hasn’t even caught a glimpse of this new tattoo before in the locker rooms. Buck’s watching him—Eddie knows this even without looking up from this piece of his best friend that’s been added without him knowing; Eddie tries to not let that sting, even as he can’t take his eyes off the shape of it.

The stark lines curve into a stylistic wave, cresting into the idea of a sky, while one of the edges of the trough dissolves into a date. Eddie’s fingers reach up—reverent but sure—and trace the sharp crest, his eyes following each movement the lines flow into against soft, pale skin.

“Wait,” Eddie breathes out, eyebrows coming together in confusion as something sticks against the gears trying to process this image. “The tsunami hit on the 14th, not—”

“Yeah, I know,” Buck shifts under Eddie’s fingers, the skin rising to meeting his light touch as goosebumps spread across Buck’s ribs, “but this is the date—uh, the date you dropped Christopher off with me? You know, after?” Eddie’s gaze steals to Bucks at that, capturing Buck’s eyes where they’re trying to hide under his ridiculous lashes.

“Why?” Eddie manages to croak, the air it takes to form words too rough against his raw throat at remembering that moment between them, months ago. His palm itches with the memory of Buck—solid and giving beneath it—and how Buck had looked like he was _so_ close to figuring out something _big_ and Eddie had to leave or else he would have done something truly stupid like kiss him—or just fucking propose, dear _Lord_ , has Eddie been this obvious this entire time?

Buck looks at him like that again, so close to something too big for Eddie’s chest, and tells him honestly, “That’s the day I realized there are things I’m willing to die for, and some things I’m willing to _live_ for.” Eddie watches as Buck swallows, the movement rolling down his rib cage with a deep breath. “That I’d do anything to keep the two of you in my life—that I’d never give up on either of you.”

Eddie has been at a loss for words exactly two times in his life. The first—the day Christopher was born, looking at him through the NICU glass and unable to say anything while he silently prayed his son would be alright. The second—the day Shannon had told him she wasn’t coming back, when he stayed so quiet she finally told him softly that she’d call him later and hung up.

So, Eddie is terrible with words when too many emotions overcrowd his mind—he’s always been better at physical expression anyway, which is why his slippery descent into fighting had so easily clawed at his instincts. It was natural for him to focus his emotions through a visceral lens. He’s not good with words, but he tries to force some out with a shaking voice anyway.

“Buck,” Eddie would like to believe he did not just whine out the name of his best friend, but he’s never been an optimist, “when did you—why didn’t you _tell me_ —” There’s so many questions building in his lungs, tripping over each breath that keeps getting lodged in his chest. It’s so much, all at once—realizing he knows exactly what Buck is talking about, because he would also do anything to ensure Christopher and Buck never leave his side again—and it’s going to suffocate him with the intensity of it building against his ribs.

“It wasn’t long after that day, but—I mean, after the lawsuit, there was never really a time? I wasn’t trying to keep it from you or anything, but things _just_ got back to normal between us, man, I didn’t know how to just _bring it up_ —”

Eddie steps further in Buck’s space, his palm still curved against Buck’s ribs—pressed firmly over the tattoo, warm under his touch—and Eddie has to fight the urge to stroke the skin under his thumb. The movement seems to disassociate Buck’s brain from his jaw, suddenly incapable of forming words and just hanging opening on a soft intake of air. Eddie thinks it’s the most beautiful he’s ever seen Buck—for one brief moment, he’s so unguarded and wanting and watching Eddie like he’d do anything Eddie asked right now.

Even as Buck curls at his shoulders to curve himself closer to Eddie, Buck still has a couple inches on him—but with those eyes so lost on his face, Eddie knows that Buck _would_ do anything he asked right now, and it’s a very powerful realization. He has the power to move this man’s life so permanently it’s sitting plainly on his skin—for the entire world to see, worn with humility and honor—and Eddie knows he can’t keep only toeing the line between them anymore.

Eddie is acutely aware of the way his palm moves with every short, rasped intake of breath Buck keeps trying to quietly heave in. He sees every reflection of light off the morning scruff peppered across Buck’s jaw and how it somehow both softens his features and makes him look so devastatingly boyish that Eddie’s knees want to buckle—he watches intently as Buck’s eyes drop half closed, watching Eddie back with a storm brewing in the blue of his irises. Eddie is lost in the way that—up this close—he can smell his sheets mixed in with the sun-warmth of Buck’s skin.

Eddie has always been a physical person, but he never thought he could feel _so much,_ all at once. He feels everything that shifts between them, right in that tectonic moment—there’s a tension building up pressure between them that quakes as Buck lets out a breath and it fans across Eddie’s lips.

“Eddie,” Buck’s voice is scraped raw and his eyes are just shy of desperate, “can I—God, can I kiss you?”

Eddie thinks he nods but it’s cut short as Buck’s lips press against his—a soft, reverent touch that has Buck whining and bringing his hands up to cup the side of Eddie’s neck, his thumbs encouraging against the hinge of Eddie’s jaw. As soon as Eddie’s lips part on a groan, starved for a taste he’d only been able to dream about before, Buck bears down into the kiss.

Eddie keeps one hand anchored at Buck’s side, fingers splayed against those bare ribs, as he brings the other to wrap around the back of Buck’s neck—pulling him even closer, trying to bury him as deep as possible. Buck is all slow, sensual movements between his lips and his teeth and Eddie thinks he might actually be getting dizzy with it which is abso-fuckingly-lutely ridiculous because he’s a grown man, okay, and—

And then Buck’s gasping, those fingers anchored to Eddie’s jaw actually _shaking_ in the gentle grasp Eddie _knows_ Buck has to be forcing himself to maintain. Buck’s eyes are fluttering open while he drags in a ragged breath. Eddie watches through heavy lidded eyes, gaze arching with the curve of Buck’s lower lip, for a few beats before he realizes they’ve stopped kissing which—is not the best idea in Eddie’s book, if he’s honest.

“Wait, Eddie, we— _Chris_ , and—we should slow down—” Buck tells him like he’s making any sense at all, his eyes still too warm—all heavy with his stupidly long lashes, and _Jesus_ , Eddie didn’t think Buck could always be so damn perfect for him and yet here he is, trying to think of Christopher first.

“Ah, _querido,_ calm down,” Eddie smiles a little too soft and a little too slow, still feeling like there’s not enough oxygen in his blood—he’s filled with everything Buck, everything in him getting compressed and replaced within something that’s a hybrid of _them_ , and it’s scary how much he likes the idea of that.

It’s intense, but Eddie’s always lived on the edge of _just_ too much, so it fits right into the groove of his ribs and expands with every labored breath as he forces himself to relax. Buck still looks torn to pieces at making the right decision in front of him, and he doesn’t want Buck to ever think there’s a wrong decision here. “Chris will still be another ten minutes, I can bet you. And it’s not like I’m going to jump you right here against the drawers, Buck,” Eddie chuckles, as if the thought didn’t actually cross his mind not even five minutes ago.

“You sure about that, big guy?” Buck jokes, but it’s a little too breathless to land the footing. His eyes catch on Eddie’s mouth again, and Eddie knows he’ll be weak to the heat pooling in that stare if he doesn’t distract them.

“Not nearly as much as I should be,” Eddie tells him plainly, memorizing the swell of Buck’s bottom lip before pushing away and adjusting his clothes. He keeps his eyes on the ground, unsure of his own will power being faced with such damning temptation.

“What are we doing, Eddie?” Buck blurts out, and Eddie can see where his knuckles are white from gripping the edge of one of the drawers as his stare chases after Eddie.

There’s a bit of raw panic starting to edge into the wide set of Buck’s eyes and Eddie can’t move quick enough to Buck’s side. Buck’s arms open for him without hesitation, letting Eddie crowd himself against Buck’s half hearted embrace. There’s a delicacy about the way he rests his hands on Eddie’s hips.

Eddie ducks his head and cranes his neck to get Buck to look him in the eye. “Hey, no, look at me—” Buck huffs but Eddie can see the smallest ember of warmth start to flicker in the edges of Buck’s eyes. “We’re figuring this out, okay? This is… new, yeah, but also—”

“Not,” Buck finishes, a small smile curving his lips and offering Eddie a sliver of contentment.

“Yeah, but also not,” Eddie echoes, lips twitching upwards at the giddy hope growing in Buck’s expression. “I’m not gonna pretend to know what I’m doing, okay? All I know is I _want_ this, okay, and I want to make it work.”

Buck lets out a breath that sounds like a rough prayer, like it had been held in his chest for too long and the devotion was fighting to be heard. “I want this more than anything, Eddie,” he says and it’s raw and too tender to be out in the open and yet here Buck is—extending it to Eddie with abraded hands that don’t even shake under the weight of that kind of promise.

“We’re on the same page then,” Eddie tells him, too roughly, all the soft parts of him busy with wrapping himself around Buck’s tender offering and aching to protect it. Buck swallows—his eyes suspiciously wet, but Eddie can’t say shit when he can feel a familiar stinging behind his own eyes—and Eddie thinks they have just enough time to—

“Daaaad, you’re not even _dressed_ ,” Christopher whines from the doorway and Eddie laughs, his head _thunk_ ing forward on Buck’s chest. He can feel a rumble of laughter shake the smooth skin beneath his stubbled cheek.

“Sorry, buddy, your dad and I got distracted talking,” Buck tells him and it’s enough of a truth that Christopher accepts it without much thought.

“ _I_ was thinking,” Christopher segues and Eddie buries his laughter in Buck’s chest before turning to face his son who’s wearing his best Cute Face. “The park would be fun if Denny was there,” Christopher grins, looking up towards the ceiling instead of the twin looks of betrayal mirroring back at him.

“Oh, that’s low, Superman,” Buck laughs, bending and tip toeing across the floor as Christopher already starts laughing before Buck even reaches him. “Are we not cool enough for you anymore?” Buck asks between fake growling noises, lifting Christopher up and blowing raspberries into Christopher’s stomach.

“Guess not,” Christopher gasps out between squeals of laughter and Eddie watches with a too-soft expression on his face as Buck makes an affronted noise before fake-dropping Christopher onto the bed.

“D’ya hear this blasphemy, Eddie? You’ve raised a heathen,” Buck asks, breathless, one knee on the bed as he fights off Christopher’s attempts at revenge with one hand—that tattoo keeps flowing and cresting with every breath Buck tries to catch, and Eddie thinks this is it.

This is what he’s always wanted, stretched out before him and finally within his reach.

“Seems like it,” Eddie rasps out, and Buck’s eyes soften at the sound. He starts to slowly grin over at Eddie—cheeks all red from exertion and laughter and _just maybe_ from the way Eddie can’t stop staring at him—before one of Christopher’s tiny hands manages to connect with his side and then he’s going down, being conquered like a mountain by an eight year with determined ticklers.

“Alright, mercy! Mercy, I said!” Buck pleads, laughter ripping from his chest as Christopher is all limbs and poking fingers. Once they start to settle down and catch their breath, Eddie manages to stifle his own laughter.

“Looks like you get to have Denny come too,” Eddie tells Christopher amusedly, catching Buck’s eye over the top of Christopher’s _whoop_ ing form.

“You sure that’s okay?” Buck’s asking, but Eddie can see a deeper question crossing the room between them. This is a choice Eddie gets to make—to start whatever this is between them out in the open, in front of Hen and maybe even Karen, to display it with an honesty Eddie will have to dig out of his chest.

Eddie is surprised at how readily he’s willing to make the choice—like it’s not even a choice at all.

“Yeah,” he nods, smiling even as he feels that burning behind his eyes swell into something that’s a little too much for his gaze to hold, “it’s more than okay.”

All it takes is watching the smile that breaks out across Buck’s expression—stretching all his features with all this light Eddie feels it burn in his chest—and Eddie knows that’s 100% completely true—it really is all going to be okay.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck can feel Eddie’s eyes on his lips more than he feels the gentle rasp on his thumbs against the stubble that’s started peeking through at Buck’s jaw. It’s like Buck suddenly understands the theory of magnetic pull so much better now; the way their convergence feels inevitable, like he can live suspended in this moment between one breath and the next because Buck knows at the exhale there will be the soft press of lips against his own. 
> 
> It’s that split moment in between—atomic in its length, like the lack of thought before taking a breath—that Buck realizes _this_ is the moment that is going to redefine them. They may have crossed some boundary between them this morning, but _this_ is gunning toward the finish line; they could probably recover from a kiss, so this is a conscious decision to take a leap into something they’re not going to be able to come back from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my loose goal was to have this chapter out by the time 3b airs and well. At least I technically did that lmao. 
> 
> Anyway this is woefully unbeta'd but im trying not to stress about it. forgive me-i just really wanted to get this out. I hope this is at least coherent and is halfway decent. And hopefully taking a month to update is made up for by a 8k chapter lol.
> 
> *Edit 5/16* -- First time I've really ever made enough edits to something to update a chapter, but I realized this one needed some to make it flow much better. Mainly just changed some wording and added some moments between the boys during the park scene, if anyone needs to re-read before chapter 5, which should be out this weekend (hopefully).
> 
> *Edit 11/24/2020* -- Well my dudes it's been one hell of a year so far and honestly, I know there's pretty much no way I'm going to have this updated until I get inspiration back for Buddie, which will probably only come after the new season. I have some original projects I'm working on now that I'm unemployed due to the pandemic and I'm trying to mainly focus on them, and I also prioritize my ongoing Klance series over pretty much any other fic since it's been 2 years running. I think I'm officially placing this fic on hiatus until the new 9-1-1 season, whenever that may be. It's probably not abandoned, and honestly it leaves off in a pretty okay place as is, so I hope anyone following understands this decision. I just don't want anyone hanging on for the next update when I've reached the point where I can admit to myself it's way on my back burner for now. I'm sorry to anyone who's been waiting--I will be back to give it a proper end eventually. I just barely have any spoons left every day to work on something I have a hard time connecting to right now. Thank you to anyone who has followed this so far, though--I really do appreciate your enthusiasm for this, and I hope I can come back once the new season airs to match that enthusiasm <3 Until then, I wish you all well and hope you come out on the other side of this global nightmare unscathed.

Buck isn’t even away from Eddie for half an hour before he gets a jitter in his bones that manifests in tapping thumbs on the steering wheel as he finally makes the turn into his apartment complex. It’s terrifyingly complex, this knot of emotions that seems determined to come unraveled between them; Buck feels rubbed raw by the revelation that Eddie _feels the same_. He’s tender and sore but he doesn’t feel exposed by it—he feels _renewed_.

Buck left things on a really positive note; both he and Eddie had been giddy with anticipation around each other, everything feeling both normal and so much _more_ between them that Buck has no doubt what they’re doing is the right direction for them. They weren’t able to talk fully with Christopher in the apartment—buzzing with excitement as Buck had to send out a text to Hen about the park since it seemed she was screening his calls after this morning’s unexpected wake up—but there was a promise of _tonight_. Chris would be in the house, sure, but once he goes to bed Buck is sure they’re gonna be able to figure out where they’re going relationship-wise pretty quickly.

Which he was really counting on, because he’d very much like to continue what he and Eddie had started this morning.

There’s an extra bounce in his steps as Buck almost trips over himself in his haste to unlock his apartment door and start getting a bag thrown together for the night. He manages to coordinate a text to Eddie that he just made it to his place in between tossing a pair of pants and an extra shirt in his gym bag before he stops as his reflection catches his attention. Buck’s eyes snag on the low hang of the joggers Eddie loaned him—the shirt he borrowed too is fitted rather snugly across his chest as well.

Objectively, Buck knows he at least should change his shirt before he goes back out into polite society. It’s hard to comply though when he feels… _Warm_ in Eddie’s clothes. It feels like he’s being watched by him, here, like this—he can almost feel Eddie’s eyes on him. Buck sighs and pulls Eddie’s shirt over his head and tosses it into his bag to give back to Eddie. He already feels the loss of its weight on his skin, shivering at more than just the chill of the loft.

The vivid black ink across his ribs catches his eyes again while he digs out a shirt from his dresser. Honestly, he had no idea the tattoo would affect Eddie so much. Buck had almost forgotten about it; by now it’s _part_ of him, just like the commitment to his boys it represents.

Buck can’t say he’s complaining about it, though. It was definitely one of the most favorable outcomes he’d let himself daydream about when he first got it; so much time had passed now though that the excitement dimmed to a low warmth every time Buck caught a glimpse of it. He gets it might feel a little… Overwhelming for Eddie, though. Buck had teared up a little when he first got it, too. But if he’s being honest, Buck is craving to know everything that was going through Eddie’s head then—what made him finally take a leap? Buck wants to know exactly what it is that made Eddie start seeing him so differently.

Buck wants to feel Eddie’s eyes—full of some deep, hungry longing—on his skin again, too. Eddie makes him feel wanted in ways Buck isn’t used to feeling. All his hookups made him feel wanted for his body, sure—and well, there was enough heat in Eddie’s stare that Buck isn’t _too_ worried about that development of their relationship, okay—but Eddie makes him feel integral to something so much bigger than himself.

So yeah, fuck it, he’s gonna keep the sweatpants on if they help him feel a little more _seen_ by Eddie.

A loose henley is enough to cover up the low-hanging waist of the joggers anyway, so Buck is pretty satisfied with his little solution when a chime sounds from his pocket. His heart does a ridiculous flip in his chest as he scrambles to grab it—seriously, he can’t stay giddy about Eddie like this longer than a few hours, right? It _will_ have to wear off eventually— _right_?

Whatever. Buck isn’t above feeling like a teenager in love right now.

Buck’s thumb swipes up the screen and taps the first text in the messages app on auto-pilot before it even registers it’s a reply about the playdate from Hen instead of Eddie.

**Hen, _11:02am:_**

_Yeah, sure, can meet you guys there in about 30ish. Since you know. I obviously had plenty of time to get ready this morning already._

_Since somebody WOKE ME UP._

_You. You did that._

Buck chuckles as the texts fly in back to back. He doesn’t even attempt to defend himself against Hen’s wrath anymore and just lets her let out all that simmering steam. Buck has thrown a couple pairs of underwear into his bag when he stops as his fingers find a bottle of spare lube hidden in his drawer, tucked away between some balled up socks.

Chewing on his bottom lip while his hand hesitantly reaches for the bottle, Buck huffs and decides there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be prepared; he grabs the bottle and a few condoms from his nightstand drawer and tucks it all in his bag.

Besides, unless things do end up taking that turn tonight then Eddie never has to know Buck even entertained the idea, right?

Right.

**Hen, _11:05am:_**

_If that wasn’t obvs._

_Should we bring anything?_

**Buck, _11:07am:_**

_You know ily thooo :3c_

_Just you and your amazing self ;)_

_And ya know, your amazing wife and child :P_

**Hen _, 11:08am_** _:_

_We’re gonna talk later about your overuse of emoticons but yea I'll bring the goods, you dork._

**Buck, _11:10am:_**

_But how else will you know what im feeling hen D:_

_Hen? DD;_

_HEEEEEEENNNNNN DDDDDDD:_

Once Buck is sure he’s sent an appropriate amount of frowny faces to prove Hen wrong, he tosses the bag over his shoulder and takes a last glance around his room before heading out. Right as he’s locking the apartment door behind himself, a text from Eddie does actually come through.

**Eddie, _11:17am_ : **

_Do you wanna pick up pizza or something on your way over to the park?_

_Chris may or may not have learned the art of negotiation._

_And also the location of the cowboy boots right after you left, so._

It’s dumb. It’s small and probably actually insignificant but Buck feels like he’s part of a _team_ when he’s with Eddie; he’s included in each step of their life together, reminded of his place with them—with something as simple as Eddie knowing he could rely on Buck to do anything for him and Chris, no questions asked. If that’s jumping in after him during a tsunami or just indulging his lunch request, Buck will put Christopher first.

So when he fires off an affirmative text, there’s a warm grin on his face Buck can’t even think about trying to stifle. He can’t help it; this finally feels like something _good_.

_____________________

Only Chris and Eddie are at the park by the time Buck gets there. He’s setting the stack of three pizzas and a couple two liters next to some paper goods on a nearby picnic table; he recognizes Chris’ backpack tucked safely underneath one of the table’s long benches and figures this is the table Eddie claimed with their lunch supplies.

Buck doesn’t call out to Eddie immediately; he’s helping Chris cross some monkey bars on the playground and Buck can hear Chris’ laughter from here even if their backs are turned to him. Admittedly he gets a little lost smiling at the two of them together, which is the excuse he gives himself when Hen’s booming laughter startles the shit out of him.

“Please tell me pizza is _seriously_ not you boys’ idea of a picnic,” Hen cackles as Buck’s jaw drops and he turns, offended.

“Excuse you, what’s wrong with pizza? It’s an optimal picnic food, _thank you_ very much,” Buck shoots back over a short but genuine smile to Karen, who just gives Buck a hug hello that ends with a sympathetic pat on the stomach as she sets out to help Denny put on some sunscreen before joining Chris.

For some reason, Buck doesn’t think it’s sympathy _for_ him though so it doesn’t do much to make him feel better at having his culinary expertise get so thoroughly dragged.

“To be fair, the pizza was a bargaining chip to get some _very_ stinky cowboy boots out of Chris’ wardrobe for today.” Eddie’s laughter is smooth and weaves through his words calmly but it still sends a shiver down Buck’s spine when he hears it beside him suddenly.

“I am _not_ complaining,” Denny pipes up, trying to snag a slice of pizza while Karen catches his hand and uses the leverage to smear some sunscreen on his arm. Hen’s busy trying to get the back of Denny’s neck while he squirms away, and Buck is grateful for both of their friends’ distraction because Eddie’s hand has wandered to the small of Buck’s back and even that small pressure has Buck’s face heating up. Eddie’s thumb presses a deliberate circle into the fabric, and Buck shoots him a warning glare that falls short when Eddie won’t even meet his eyes, too busy laughing to himself as he uses his free hand to place some plates down on the table for everyone.

“No one would ever accuse you of that, baby,” Karen snorts, patting Denny’s back and sending him off to join Chris to get out some energy before lunch.

Eddie’s hand is gone in a flash, the fluid movement flowing into grabbing cups to put them out by the plates. There’s a little smirk at the corner of his lips and Buck has the urge to find out if it tastes as smug as it looks. There's a moment where part of Buck fights against the impulse—the same part that would tell him to squash any and all stray desires that would surge up when he’d get too close to his best friend, the part that screamed at him that he was toeing a line best left untouched. That moment leaves him as soon as Eddie catches his eyes and there’s so much depth to the trust and mirth in a simple look, and it fills Buck to the brim with something he can’t quite identify but it still tries to bubble over; Buck gets so lost in the overflow of knowing he _can_ give into those little impulses now, that he doesn’t have to hide them from Eddie—or from anyone else—that he doesn’t realize their friends had been staring at them for… Probably an embarrassing amount of time.

Buck clears his throat and avoids Hen’s knowing grin as Eddie’s shoulder brushes against his to pass Buck the soda to pour out.

“So, any special reason for this totally and completely random playdate?” Hen asks innocently—the abrupt question seemingly anything but harmless though, and Karen’s face pinches up as she elbows her wife in the side.

Buck wants to laugh but his heart speeds up a little too fast to leave room in his chest for levity—were they really gonna do this? Could they actually let this thing between them be stoked into an open flame?

Eddie’s hand lands on his waist and it’s an anchor, pulling Buck ashore and it helps him breathe again. When he turns his head to look, Eddie is smiling easily at Hen and Karen even as his arm is so obviously and intimately wrapped around Buck.

“I guess you could say that,” Eddie hedges, the crinkles at the edges of his eyes full of some private humor as he looks back to Buck. “Did you wanna—?” He leaves it open; he’s letting Buck still have a chance to decide to wait, to hide them away from the world.

“We’re—” Buck blurts out, still staring wide eyed at Eddie’s encouraging face. He knows whatever he decides, Eddie will back him up in this moment, like all the moments they’ve had since they first met. Buck whips his head toward their friends with a slightly warmed face when he realizes what he’s going to do. “We’re together. You know, like—we’re dating. We uh,” Buck swallows, encouraged by the shocked glee on their faces, “we haven’t really talked much through, but we know we want to make this work.”

The hug that crushes Eddie and Buck together in an awkward four-person tangle of limbs should have been expected, really. It still steals the breath from Buck’s chest as Hen’s arms clamp around his shoulders to bring him down to the rest of their levels with a bright laugh that rings in Buck’s ears.

“This is _fantas_ —wait, what do you mean you haven’t talked about it?” Hen stops short, pulling away to glare up at Buck’s face. The emotional whiplash leaves Buck blinking dumbly down at her, cocking his head in confusion.

“I mean, we’re _gonna_. Of course,” Buck adds hastily, nodding with Eddie who looks just as confused. “We just haven’t really had the chance yet?”

“It all kind of happened pretty fast—” Eddie adds, and Buck is grateful for the backup.

“Right, it was just last night! But we don’t want to hide it, ya know, so—” the words start to slip clumsily from Buck’s mouth as Hen and Karen share some sort of incredulous look. There’s an entire silent conversation that seems to happen right in front of Buck and it’s a little fascinating, if he’s honest, if it wasn’t so terrifying to feel like they’ve already messed up somehow by being on the receiving end of those looks.

There’s a beat of silence as Karen and Hen both stare at them before Karen is shaking her head and motioning to Eddie. “Alright come on, you. Lets see if we can wrangle the boys for lunch, yeah?” She says with all smiles, shooting another look to Hen.

Buck watches after them—Eddie looking back with a look of utter confusion but Buck just shrugs in solidarity as Karen pulls him toward the playground—and suddenly feels like he’s laying splayed wide on a dissection table.

He has to suppress a shiver at the feeling of Hen’s stare on his back before turning slowly. “Okay, I know you’re disappointed but are you really _surprised_? We’re excited, Hen!” Buck says with his hands up in surrender, wincing in preparation of whatever life lesson Hen is about to smack down on him.

When the next few moments are met with nothing but a sigh and the sound of paper plates rustling, Buck lowers his guard and chances a full look at Hen. She’s just shaking her head, rolling her eyes at Buck.

“Listen, kid, I know you’re excited. And I know you guys have thought this through because Eddie is a good dad and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize Chris in _any_ way. _But_ —” Hen’s voice tapers into a chiding _tut-_ ing when Buck starts trying to confusedly agree. “But do you guys realize this is still technically _coming out_?”

Buck freezes, blinking rapidly at Hen. “I mean, no, I hadn’t really—uh, yeah, I guess you’re right.” Eddie is just Eddie, to Buck. But yeah, he realizes, if they announce their relationship then they’re also going to have to announce at least some form of bisexuality to everyone too, right?

Had Eddie considered that? They hadn’t even told Chris yet, and definitely hadn’t considered having to explain sexuality in all its fluidity to him in order to do so. Buck groans, dropping his face in his own hands as he flops down onto the bench.

Hen clucks her tongue, her eyes appraising Buck and he’s pretty sure he’s coming up short in some areas. “Listen, okay, this thing between you two is a good thing, we all agree on that. But you really need to give some actual thought to what this means to you two as individuals and as a couple—because that’s what you are now. You’re partners in life now, too— _not_ just work.”

Buck nods, his cheeks and neck feeling hot from the _very obvious_ stuff he and Eddie had so easily overlooked in their excitement to get started. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I agree. We were gonna talk to Cap about it tomorrow at work since we’re both on shift tomorrow evening, and we really _were_ gonna talk about it tonight, but—” Buck sighs, snapping up some of the hand sanitizer tucked away with the paper plates so he can start Chris a plate.

Hen’s hand on Buck’s back is a comforting weight, her voice lowered to something more soothing against the grate of Buck’s frustration as she takes a seat beside him. “Hey, no, it’s okay. This is new for you two. And I’m so proud and happy for you both right now. I’m also _happy_ you told us, okay?”

Buck sees Hen watching him intently out of the corner of his eye and realizes she’s actually waiting for his confirmation. “Okay,” he says, begrudgingly. He still feels like he’s already somehow messed this up, but Hen’s encouragement and support does help lift Buck’s mood from the slump it fell into so quickly.

“And because I am _such_ a good friend,” Hen sighs dramatically after finally getting the affirmation she was looking for. “I’m going to offer to turn today’s playdate into a sleepover if you two promise to actually _talk_ tonight, alright?” There’s a mischievous glint in Hen’s eyes and Buck can feel his ears heat before the words actually register.

“Oh—no, hey, that’s not—” Buck stumbles over the words as he absently struggles to get the pizza box closed before giving up and smacking it down with a huff. “Listen, thank you, but I don’t even know if Eddie—”

“Evan Buckley, I am offering you one night of a _childless_ home to get things worked out between you and your boyfriend, _are you actually insane or_ —”

“Okay, yeah, no, I hear it too. I will totally take you up on that gracious offer, thank you.” Buck laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as he turns to find where Eddie went off to while Hen mutters something close to _that’s what I thought_. His eyes find Eddie as his head tips back on a laugh while Karen chases both the boys.

“Guess we just have to get Eddie and Chris on board with this change of plans, now,” Buck says softly, waving a little when Eddie turns and catches him watching them. Buck can see the warmth in his smile even from here and thinks, _damn_. _This is really happening._

_____________________

After probably a couple too many hours at the park, the boys are exhausted enough that Buck at least doesn’t feel too bad about sticking Hen and Karen with both boys on their day off. He should honestly probably be offended at how easy it was to convince Chris to postpone their video game night bonanza so he could stay the night with Denny tonight, but hey—can’t look a gift horse in the mouth or whatever.

It balances out, though, with how almost flattering it is _Eddie_ was so easily persuaded; he barely listens to Hen’s offer before he’s offering to go pick up an overnight bag for Chris if Buck would stay to watch him with Hen and Karen. Honestly, Buck can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed by the looks their friends share over the clear enthusiasm.

The car ride home is surprisingly quiet. There seems to be some sort of introspective silence that blankets Buck—crackling with underlying anticipation of exactly where this night will now go and Buck doesn’t even want the radio on as he makes the drive to Eddie’s house by himself. There’s a vibrating excitement in his chest as he pulls the Jeep into park behind Eddie’s truck in the driveway.

Buck takes a steadying breath as he unbuckles his seatbelt and grabs his bag from the back. The walk to the door might be cut in half as Buck takes practically leaping strides but Buck feels like he’s been waiting for this _all day._

And he actually has, so. He isn’t ashamed of his excitement, okay.

Eddie is at the door before Buck can even decide whether to reach for his key or knock.

“Hey,” Eddie rasps, looking just as worn out by anticipation as Buck feels. The sun started to set about fifteen minutes ago, and Buck can’t help but admire the way the warm light of dusk seems to caress Eddie’s skin.

“Hey,” Buck parrots, a slow smile splitting his face as Eddie catches his eyes and doesn't let go. “You gonna let me in, or?”

“Yes,” Eddie says, but he doesn’t move; he just keeps watching Buck back, something close to wonder starting to creep into his expression. Finally, he coughs and leans back off the doorframe and lets Buck cross.

“ ‘M gonna go put my bag in the bedroom, okay?” Buck says amusedly as Eddie seems to be at a loss of words. Buck has turned and made it to the hallway before there’s a hand on his wrist. Buck turns, one eyebrow coming up to question Eddie silently.

Eddie swallows and drops Buck’s wrist. “Listen,” he starts nervously and something cold starts to squirm over Buck’s skin. “I _want_ to talk, okay? I think it’s very important for us to do, but—” Eddie sighs and rubs his palms roughly over his jeans, tearing his eyes from Buck’s.

“Dude, you’re freaking me out,” Buck tries to laugh but it falls short, so he reaches out to pull Eddie’s face back toward him. “What’s going on in there?” Buck knocks a knuckle gently against Eddie’s temple, who closes his eyes against the touch.

“I really want to kiss you, alright?” Eddie blurts out loudly, and Buck is so stunned he can’t help but let out a burst of quick laughter much to Eddie’s chagrin. He shoots Buck a glare but Buck shakes his head, laughter still trickling out of his mouth.

“No, no, Eddie, I’m not laughing at you. I was just surprised.”

“Are you really? ‘Cause what _else_ am I supposed to think about after finding out I’d get you _alone_ tonight?” The words are meant to be light, Buck can tell, but they still stir up an ember inside Buck’s belly.

Buck smiles even as his mouth goes a little dry at the thought. “I’m just saying you don’t have to be so nervous about wanting to kiss me, Eddie. We can talk later tonight, easy. I think we deserve a little time to decompress, yeah?” The smile must be enough to comfort Eddie because he’s nodding on a sigh as he agrees.

“Yeah, true. Sorry. I just—yeah.”

“I understand, man. I mean, Hen definitely brought up some good points to me today that I want to talk about, but I also really wouldn’t mind getting a little alone time first too,” Buck says, the smile sharpening to a smirk as he takes a step closer to Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes, nodding toward the bedroom. “Wanna get your bag put down then?” The question is quiet and amused but there’s so much more brewing in Eddie’s eyes. Buck swallows.

“Lead the way, then,” Buck challenges right back and Eddie laughs softly, pressing past Buck and down the hallway to the bedroom. Buck follows silently—and probably a little too closely, but there’s an itch under his skin that’s begging him to stay next to Eddie.

Buck’s tossing his bag next to the dresser and turns to find Eddie still at the door.

Buck watches the slow shift of muscles under the soft fabric of Eddie’s t-shirt as the door clicks shut behind them and Eddie rests his head against the wood paneling. Buck thinks, absently, they should turn on a lamp, but the cool lighting filtering in from the blinds is enough to illuminate a path from the curve of Eddie’s neck down to the low hang of his jeans. There’s a deep pull within his palms—aching with the need to clutch at those hips and keep Eddie close—so Buck takes a steadying breath to pull himself away from those thoughts. If Eddie is feeling _this_ hesitant about kissing, Buck shouldn’t push it any further. It doesn’t matter, anyway—they’ll get time to explore each other later, when Eddie doesn’t have to brace himself to do it.

“We don’t have to do anything other than kiss, you know,” he starts, trying to scrub that feeling off his palms. “This is so much more than that anyway, I need you to know—”

The words dry up on Buck’s tongue and he tries to swallow the dust as Eddie turns around, his hands crossed behind himself as he leans against the door—he’s resting his head against the wood and it stretches his neck in a sinful way. The way Eddie’s eyes darken under the shadows cast over the room has Buck’s lungs alight with the realization _this is happening_.

“Don’t insult me by trying to insinuate I’d ever be some one night stand to you,” Eddie intones, a smirk gathering at the edges of his lips and _Jesus Christ_ , Buck didn’t think Eddie was capable of pointing a look like that at _him_ of all people. What burns Buck down to his core, though, is the surety in Eddie’s voice.

This growing _thing_ may be just starting to unfurl the petals of its possibility, but there’s enough trust built in the years between them for Eddie to be certain that Buck would never disrespect their relationship like that. It’s easier to believe in his next steps when the foundation feels so sturdy, and Buck doesn’t even need to toe the ground before taking confident strides toward Eddie.

Buck’s fingers find the loops of Eddie’s jeans before any other parts of them can be drawn together. Eddie’s hands slide out from behind him to clutch at the back of Buck’s neck; his fingers clasp together against the hair at his nape, his palms pressed firmly against the sides of Buck’s neck while his thumbs rub at the cut of his jaw.

It’s a simple enough movement to draw Buck closer—not to mention they’re not even really touching otherwise—but Buck feels the blood in his veins simmer and then evaporate, nothing but hot air left in Buck and he’s choking on it. It’s getting caught in his throat, causing his breath to come out in something embarrassingly close to a gasp as he meets Eddie’s eyes from under lowered lashes.

Buck can feel Eddie’s eyes on his lips more than he feels the gentle rasp on his thumbs against the stubble that’s started peeking through at Buck’s jaw. It’s like Buck suddenly understands the theory of magnetic pull so much better now; the way their convergence feels inevitable, like he can live suspended in this moment between one breath and the next because Buck knows at the exhale there will be the soft press of lips against his own.

It’s that split moment in between—atomic in its length, like the lack of thought before taking a breath—that Buck realizes _this_ is the moment that is going to redefine them. They may have crossed some boundary between them this morning, but _this_ is gunning toward the finish line; they could probably recover from a kiss, so this is a conscious decision to take a leap into something they’re not going to be able to come back from.

There’s the sound of fabric shifting as Eddie takes in a breath before he’s tilting his head and—Buck realizes that they won’t be able to fit back to a picture of who they were before but it doesn’t feel like a threat; all they can do is move forward, together, and that’s exactly what Buck wants. He wants to keep moving in tandem with Eddie—with his sure presence by his side through everything, Buck wants to let Eddie and Christopher make themselves at home in the forefront of his heart.

There’s something too big wedged in between his ribs, stubborn in its insistence that they’re already there, buried so deep in Buck’s priorities that they’re mixed in with the crux of his being. Buck has never been great at keeping his heart off his sleeve—so when the realization hits in between one breath and the next, Buck is unable to keep himself from surging down to meet Eddie’s lips on a desperate whine.

Eddie’s mouth is so warm as it presses against his own that Buck feels ignited by the spark it sends down his spine. There’s no hesitancy in the way they move, mouths welcoming and parted as soon as Buck closes the rest of the distance between their bodies. Eddie is a solid weight against Buck’s thighs to his chest, desperate to pull him as close as possible.

There’s a certainty to the way Eddie kisses him; it feels like this moment is inscribed in the tissues and sinew of who Buck is supposed to be—like he’s taking a predestined step in the right direction. It’s enough to make Buck forget how to breathe and it’s an embarrassingly short amount of time before he’s gasping and pulling back to drag air into his lungs. Buck leans his forehead heavily against Eddie’s, their noses still brushing as they try to catch their breath.

Buck tries to pull back enough to give Eddie some room to breathe, but when he does he’s able to catch Eddie’s eyes and the look embedded there in his pupils has Buck stopping short. There’s something too raw in the way Eddie’s eyebrows are drawn together—looking so pained yet longing, casting a shroud of desperation over the way he suddenly pushes off the wall to chase after Buck’s mouth.

Buck has kissed a lot of women in his life, too many to remember whose face matches which name half the time. Even with the most dominant partner, Buck was always still in control in a way he tried to stay distinctly aware of—he always wanted his partner to feel safe, even if they got rough, because he knew the inherent power he held was considerably larger than theirs in the situations from size alone. It was a cautious instinct buried in the back of his mind, but he was still always aware of it during any type of encounter.

Buck realizes with a start that he feels the very particular absence of that hesitancy in his movements with Eddie. He’s not sure if it’s because Eddie is a man—there’s a certain amount of strength that runs deep within him that Buck can feel under the press of his palms against Eddie’s hips. Eddie is sturdy and strong and every bit masculine—but he’s also _Eddie_. Buck can’t tell if his attraction is to the hard press of muscle against his own or the fact it’s Eddie—or both.

Either way, Buck knows the fact that Eddie has been there to catch him each time he’s fallen now that there’s no fear in letting himself be flung off this cliffside is definitely a contributing factor.

Buck drags the weight of Eddie’s hips with him as he backs up, only stopping when his calves bump against the bed. Eddie tries to keep up with each step, his mouth eagerly chasing Buck’s until Buck has to flop down onto the bed or risk losing his balance—the momentum of the moment had pulled him toward the nearest flat surface, but it isn’t until he’s staring up at Eddie with parted lips and wide eyes that he realizes where exactly that trajectory is flinging them.

“Eddie,” Buck breathes out, the word dissolving against the intensity in Eddie’s eyes as he settles himself in the V of Buck’s legs. Eddie places one hand on Buck’s jaw—his thumb catching on the swell of Buck’s lower lip—and the heat of that intensity darkens into something that seizes up Buck’s lungs.

“You want this, right? Ev, I _need_ to know you want this too.” Eddie looks like he’s clinging onto the last frayed edges of something Buck can’t see; Buck thinks he feels a slight tremor in Eddie’s fingers where they’re cupping the cut of his jaw.

Buck is acutely aware of how warm Eddie’s skin is against his own; how there’s even more heat radiating from where Eddie’s thighs are crowded in between his own; how there’s a _fucking_ wildfire in Eddie’s blown pupils. There’s a pressure building in Buck’s chest and he thinks he might explode with it.

“I want this so _goddamn_ much, man,” Buck tells him, almost hysterical with the honesty of it. His hands come up to settle on Eddie’s hips and the warmth that spreads under his palms as he teases his fingers under Eddie’s shirt stokes the inferno building in his chest. Buck lets it fuel him and he cracks open his ribs to let out as much honesty he can pull from his lungs. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing but neither do you, right? But all I know is I _want_ you, Eddie. I want _all_ of you.”

Buck feels breathless by the time he’s done, the thumb pressing against his lip moving to rest on his cheek halfway through his rant. Eddie’s breath seems caught in the air between them, his eyes trained on Buck’s pleading gaze. Buck is overwhelmed by the look of absolute fucking devotion he sees reflected down at him from those wide eyes.

“Yeah,” Eddie rasps, his palm falling from Buck’s jaw to the side of his neck—the movement paired with the soft scratch of Eddie’s voice is enough to send a shiver down Buck’s spine, and he resists closing his eyes with it. Eddie already sounds _so_ fucked out—from barely _anything_ —and Buck is practically vibrating with the anticipation of finding what other sounds Buck can pull from his lips. “We can take it slow though too, we could—”

“If—” Buck swallows down a whine, clears his throat. “If that’s what you need, Eddie, I’m all for it but I gotta be honest, man—all I wanna do right now is get your clothes off and get my _mouth_ on you.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Eddie gasps, before surging down to crash his mouth against Buck’s, using the hand on Buck’s neck to pull him up to meet him. It’s a quick and dirty clash, both of them too eager and impatient and it has absolutely zero finesse—and it’s one of the best goddamn kisses of Buck’s life. It feels like it’s swelling with potential; the potential from _them_ , finally converging; the potential of the _night_ and how it’s going to shape them come morning; of the future this is going to spring into motion.

Buck feels so full he’s going to burst if he doesn’t find a way to release some of the pressure.

“Let me taste you, Eddie,” Buck pleads, pulling back with the breath still caught in his chest and his lips nearly swollen from Eddie’s nipping teeth. Buck feels _debauched_ ; he feels thoroughly wrecked at the idea of getting Eddie under his mouth—feels like he looks obscene just from asking for it.

Eddie lifts himself up from weight leveraged onto his forearms, his chest still practically heaving against Buck’s as he levels an evaluating stare down at Buck. There should be some credit given, Buck thinks, to the way he’s able to meet that gaze through at least half-open eyes and perpetually parted lips while he tries to catch his breath. He must look more convincing than he thinks he does because it takes barely a beat of Buck’s heart before Eddie is guiding Buck to sit up.

“How—” Eddie swallows, holding Buck’s heavy gaze, “how do you want—me?” He trips over the question a couple of times but it still shoots straight down Buck’s spine and starts to pool in his belly. Something silent but intrinsic in him feels like it’s being weaved into a covenant with every future version of himself to _always_ keep Eddie so pliant and curious and _trusting_ in bed and—damn, it took literally nothing at all to get Buck 110% _into_ this, huh?

“Scoot—” Buck has to clear his throat, his mouth inexplicably dry, “off the bed, please.” It’s a soft command but Eddie has no trouble following it as Buck pushes himself up onto his elbows to watch. It’s almost surreal to watch as Eddie settles himself at the foot of the bed—his posture so loose and open and _ready_ as he toys with the buckle on his belt, his eyes asking Buck a question through lowered lashes.

“Yeah,” Buck rasps, “I want those off.” Buck swallows around a dry throat and then adds, absently, “Please.”

Eddie shakes his head on a little laugh, his fingers more confident as he unbuckles his belt and shimmies out of his jeans. Buck snaps himself out of his trance of just _watching_ , _damn_ by the time Eddie is stepping out of his pant legs. Buck is perching himself on the edge of the bed as Eddie straightens back up—the cotton of Eddie’s boxer briefs rubs against Buck’s palms as he clutches at Eddie’s hips to guide him into standing between Buck’s knees.

Eddie’s hands rest on Buck’s shoulders, steadying himself as he shuffles into place—and there’s such reverent compliance softening the lines of his face as he lets Buck lead them into the next move that Buck wants to tuck Eddie between his palms and keep him safe; he looks so vulnerable like this, even while objectively in a position of power over Buck in this situation. It’s at that look that Buck can’t help but think he’s probably less affected by this—what, midlife sexual crisis?—than Eddie probably is and tucks it away in the back of his mind to talk about it with Eddie some time soon.

For now, though, all that matters is the way Eddie lets out a breath and moves those sinfully strong fingers to cup the side of Buck’s face. Buck feels seen and cared for in a way he hasn’t in—well, honestly, with a quick and distracted introspection Buck thinks he’s never felt this way before. It’s _intense_ , that realization, and it only ignites the fires inside him into something raging against the walls of his chest—begging to be let free and be allowed to satiate its cavernous curiosity with _exploration_.

“You sure you’re comfortable with this?” Eddie’s words are barely more than the raspy breath that they blow out on, but his hands are steady against Buck’s pulse. “We can slow down if you need to.” There’s no doubt in Buck’s mind that if he had started feeling even an ounce of indecision here—now—that Eddie would make them wait longer for something Buck feels like he’s already been working his _ass_ off toward for the last few years—even if he hadn’t realized it, yet.

He’s proven to Eddie he’s not going anywhere up until now. There’s nothing left for them to commit to one another that they haven’t pledged over and over every day they watch each other’s backs.

“Truthfully,” Buck says casually, nosing against the elastic stretched across the taut muscle of Eddie’s abdomen, “not feeling a difference here, man. All I know is _you_ ,” Buck presses a kiss to the hem of the underwear, “are important to me and _I_ ,” another kiss—trailing toward Eddie’s belly button as it pulls a shaky breath out of Eddie. “Wanna pleasure you _so_ ,” one more kiss, lower. “ _Goddamn_.” _Almost there_ — “ _Bad_.”

“ _Mary_ , _**mother** of—_” Eddie sucks in a breath as Buck flattens his tongue against the underside of Eddie’s dick, the fabric of his underwear rough and unsatisfying but Buck knows the wet heat will be the _best_ tease right now. He realizes he’s not even too unsure of his next move; he loses himself in letting Eddie’s pleasure take over the forefront of his mind and just do whatever he thinks would feel best if he was Eddie right now.

Buck lets his tongue drag upwards as he pulls up and leans his chin into Eddie’s belly, a smirk on his lips as he meets Eddie’s heavy eyes. “Have I convinced you I want this yet?”

A little bit more life flares up in Eddie’s gaze as Buck’s shit-eating grin starts to sink in. “Shut up, you.” Eddie swats half heartedly at Buck’s shoulder, but somehow he never stops clutching Buck close so Buck isn’t worried about crossing a line.

“Seriously, though, to be clear,” Buck says, pulling back enough so he can feel the tip of Eddie’s dick brush against his throat and he has to suppress the shiver it elicits. “I want to suck you off, Eddie. And if it’s alright, I’m probably going to touch myself while I do it. Okay?”

Eddie’s eyes are lost again—hazy and warm with want—but he manages to nod, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. The sight has Buck’s own dick twitching in his sweats—no, they’re _Eddie’s_ , he’s _surrounded_ by Eddie— and he has to shove the heel of his palm against his crotch and adjust before he gets too excited already. When his hand starts wandering back, it’s with teasing fingers that trail lightly up the sides of Eddie’s thighs.

Buck wants to take his time; wants to make Eddie shake with the need to have Buck’s mouth cover him; wants to make Eddie come _undone_.

 _But_ —Buck also feels a gnawing inside his bones that’s scratching to be released. And after all, they’re going to have so much time after tonight to go slow, right?

Right.

It takes less than the second it took to decide what pace to set before Buck’s fingers are at the hem of Eddie’s underwear and tugging—Eddie lets out a small gasp at the sudden movement, his grip on Buck’s shoulders coming back to steady himself; he kicks them off somewhere to the side, but Buck’s mind devoids itself of any other focus once Eddie comes into view.

Personally, Buck’s always been a fan of a little pubic hair, so the trail of soft-looking hair leading into a patch of dark curls looks more inviting than intimidating which isn’t surprising to Buck. What is, however, _surprising_ is how his mouth starts to fucking _water_ a little at how _thick_ Eddie is.

Will everything always be this intense with Eddie? Or is it just because it _is_ Eddie and it feels like they’ve been working this nerve past raw and now it’s pulsing before them—each throbbing beat is just overstimulating a situation sore with potential.

Before any more thought can be given to it, Buck’s tongue is dragging from the base of Eddie’s shaft and up—up—flicking across the tip where precum has started to pool. The gasp at the swift, teasing movement punches out of Eddie and has Buck almost grinning; this is already proving to be _fun_.

The weight of the head of Eddie’s dick is unfamiliar but not unpleasant in Buck’s mouth as he stretches his lips around it, letting his tongue lap at that sensitive little patch right— _there_ —under the head and—

“ _Bu-_ ck, _Dios mío_ ,” Eddie groans, his hips stuttering and coming to an abrupt halt when Buck gets two handfuls of Eddie’s thighs, steadying him. Buck watches from under his lashes as Eddie takes a shuddered breath, his thumbs stroking the stretched hinge of Buck’s jaw.

It’s overwhelming how much Buck realizes he likes what Eddie must be seeing—the way he’s staring down at Buck with such a possessive glint in his eyes, Buck must be putting on a show he didn’t know he could produce so well. He had never thought too much about what he looked like when going down on women in the past—he’d learned long ago to forgo pretenses about looking good during sex and to focus solely on his partner’s pleasure and, well, it’s worked for him so far—but damn if he didn’t feel a thrill of pleasure at having _that_ look trained so intensely on him.

Not to mention the warm taste of Eddie’s skin throbbing against Buck’s tongue is way fuckin’ hotter than he thought ever possible and it’s going straight to his dick.

Buck loses himself in the movements—the slide of tongue against skin, soft gasps and moans heating the air between them—and it isn’t long before one of his hands is sneaking inside the waistband of his joggers. There’s no preamble before he’s wrapping a fist around his own aching dick and the moan that vibrates out around the thick weight of Eddie in Buck’s mouth is high and desperate.

It’s like only cracking open the pressure valve, though—Eddie’s hips are making small, abortive thrusts and his hands—previously careful and reverent—have a shaking grip in Buck’s hair, fingers scrabbling for a hold in the short strands.

Buck needs _more_. He needs Eddie closer, as close as possible. He needs him _deeper_.

Buck’s other hand comes up between Eddie’s legs—his fingers splaying across Eddie’s lower back keeping a steady hold as Buck flattens his tongue and swallows Eddie deeper, his nose pressing into those dark curls as Eddie fills him up in an _almost_ satisfying way. There’s still something left _aching_ in him, but Buck decides he can probably analyze that little revelation some other time.

“Fuuhhh- _ccc **kk**_ —” Eddie gasps, his fingers spasming in Buck’s hair. Buck hums and if his lips weren’t already stretched thin around Eddie’s dick he’d be grinning at the small victory at making Eddie sound like _that_.

Buck knows it can’t be the technical expertise he obviously lacks but he’s always heard enthusiasm makes up for lack of experience and, well—Eddie seems to agree. Buck is lucky enough he’s got enthusiasm in _spades_. Especially when the prize here is those _sounds_ , dear god.

“Buck, _querido, necesitas parar—”_ The words choke around something that sounds strangely close to a sob and even if Buck can only barely understand their meaning, the urgency is clear and Buck can’t help the moan that tapers off into something high and needy; he nods as encouragingly as he can with Eddie’s dick filling up his mouth. His own hips are thrusting desperately into his fist, and every time he pulls back enough to take a breath it comes out more like a pant. “I’m gonna—”

“Let me taste you, Eddie, let me—” Buck pulls off enough to practically beg but then Eddie’s back is bowing over him and Buck groans, dipping his head back down to take Eddie fully into his mouth while his hand slips down to grab a fistfull of Eddie’s ass. That’s all it takes and then—the broken moan that falls out around a gasp as Eddie shakes apart under his touch has Buck’s hips stuttering as all the pressure starts to trickle out, the tension so carefully strained that every muscle in his body is ready to snap.

Buck thinks he’s going to vibrate out of his skin if he doesn’t tip over into release _right this fucking second_ but—then Eddie is crying out Buck’s name and it sounds so goddamn reverent that something _breaks_ inside him and he’s coming harder than he has in years as Eddie pulses in Buck’s mouth.

Eddie slips from Buck’s mouth as Buck presses his face into the crook of Eddie’s lip, mouth parted on a near-silent whine that finally dissolves into a desperate groan as release rips through Buck. It’s a terrifyingly hot, destructive current that rushes through his veins, leaving him a heaving mess using Eddie to keep himself upright as he tries to heave in breath. He’s barely able to pull his hand out of his joggers and wipe the mess off on his thigh before reaching up and wrapping his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling him close.

“God, that was—” Eddie laughs and it rumbles through his body, making Buck drag his face up enough to watch the delirious smile spread across Eddie’s face.

“Fan-fuckin’-tastic, right?” Buck thinks he might have slurred a couple of those syllables together but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind; he’s staring down at Buck with something close to awe, one hand cradling Buck’s head while Eddie’s thumb absently rubs soothing circles against Buck’s temple.

Eddie hums in agreement and Buck grins, closing his eyes on a sigh and giving into the urge to nuzzle against Eddie’s palm. “Figures you’d be good at that on the first try,” Eddie teases. There’s not even a hint of heat though, not with his fingers so deliberately careful as Buck rests his cheek against them.

“Mmmm, don’t think you get to say shit about being good at things, Mr. Perfect.” Buck shoots a mocking grin up at Eddie but it’s quickly quelled when that hand slides down the side of Buck’s neck. The air in Buck’s chest locks up inside his lungs as Eddie’s fingers lightly press against his skin, Eddie’s thumb stroking gentle lines down the column of Buck’s throat.

Eddie is watching him with distantly warm eyes, but Buck can tell he’s putting so much careful thought into each movement as his thumb arcs across the cut of Buck’s jaw. “I’m not, you know,” Eddie murmurs, and Buck wants to fan the flame that’s dimming in those dark eyes. “I’m not perfect.”

Buck knows the weight of those words hangs heavier than some around-the-office joke. Buck can see the compacted meaning hiding in Eddie’s expression, the density of it nothing but a mass of self-doubt and loathing.

There isn’t much Buck can do about how deep it all seems embedded in Eddie, but he can at least start the excavation. “Yeah, of course _I_ know that,” Buck says, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes as he grins, “but the rest of the team? You still got ‘em fooled, man.”

Eddie blinks down at him while the joke registers and then—that fire looks a little stronger as Eddie laughs and pushes Buck away from him by the shoulders. “Don’t start somethin’ you can’t win with me here, Buckley. The Diaz genes are especially strong in the ways of smack talk.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure I’ve already won.” That grin softens into something too dopey for Buck to even try to hold back.

“You’re such a sap,” Eddie laughs but it’s warm and—yep, Buck is pretty sure he can see some red blooming under Eddie’s cheeks and his heart speeds up.

“Yeah,” Buck admits easily. He knows he’s unmistakably gone for Eddie and Buck’s never been someone who hides his emotions from the people he loves. Hell, he has trouble hiding them from people he doesn’t even _like_.

Eddie watches him a moment—his eyes flicker with something that isn’t quite as heavy as doubt, but there’s definitely some weight to the way he evaluates Buck. It’s not quite entirely lifted when he reaches a hand out but there’s more light in his eyes at least.

“C’mon, Buckaroo. Let’s get cleaned up, yeah?”

The offer is soft but sturdy and Buck takes it without any hesitation. He lets Eddie lead him to the bathroom on auto-pilot. They’ve taken a new step into deeper waters between them, but Eddie’s palm is an anchor Buck fully trusts to keep him afloat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay one last note-I don't want to seem like I take coming out lightly here, or make it seem like coming out as bi would be less harsh if it's with your best friend. Coming out is hard and it's a mindset that-as someone who has had over a decade now to grow comfortable in my own sexual identity and how I present it to others-is definitely cultivated over time and experience. 
> 
> So do I really think Buck and Eddie wouldn't think about having to "come out," realistically? No, but also this isn't supposed to be a coming out fic. I don't want to get into the emotional intricacies of it in this fic, either. I have a theme and emotional baggage I do want to work though for them in this fic, but that won't really be one of them because I want to keep it as light as I can while still paying respect to the story and character development. 
> 
> Anyway, if anyone feels like it might be too rushed: you're right! It would need to be handled a lot better, if I wanted to explore that aspect of buddie in this fic. But instead I wanted to get to the boning, so¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


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